Angelic
by GothicShadows21
Summary: Will Treaty, Football hero, nicknamed the 'Heartbreak Kid' of Meadowridge High School.  Or at least until he met Alyss Mainwaring, a not-so popular good girl that Will is extremely shy around.  Will he be able to conquer his shyness with Alyss?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_I do not own Ranger's Apprentice, sue me alright?_

Dreams…what are dreams? Are they meant to be pursued, fulfilled? Or are they meant to die, deemed false like smoke and mirrors? What is their purpose? Why do we see them? Questions that flow through Will Treaty's mind as he trudges through his latest dream; he walks down the hallways, confident, brash, and bold like he always is. He was the star of the Meadow Ridge Football Team, class president, and so-called 'heartbreak kid' to every throbbing heart of any girl whose eyes fall upon him. Girls next to football, was his greatest aspect. He had a way of stealing their breath with every word he speaks. Except for when it came to this one girl. Alyss Mainwaring, one of the most gorgeous girls in the eyes of Will. She unlike him was not as popular. She held a 'good-girl' type of reputation: always doing her work, associating with people who don't get in trouble on a daily basis. She too was shy; her heart beat whenever Will passed by and his eyes had fallen upon her gaze. He approached her, a confident smile upon her face. He spoke silent words, words that the dreaming Will could not hear or comprehend. But as he watched his dreamed self place an adoring smile on Alyss' face. He watched Alyss speak in a muted tone; a tone that frustrated the sleeping spectator. Will watched himself say a few words and made out response Alyss had made. 'Okay'; what was she accepting? But what was this dream? Was it a message? Or was it just a desire gnawing at Will's wandering mind? Darkness began to engulf the scene, swallowing everything and everyone. And in a split second, a shove in Will's side jolted him awake. His breathing sped up as he tried to understand what he had just seen. It was always that same dream, that same dream that haunted him night after night. He rolled out of bed sluggishly and trudged across the hall and into the bathroom. Will admired himself in the reflection. But as the thought of Alyss passed through his head, Will's heart did a couple somersaults. She was the only girl Will was ever shy around as he was constantly reminded by his friends. He never knew why, it was just every time that he approached her, an apprehensive feeling would prevent any words that might escape his mouth. Or at least any sound that might project any sort of confidence in Will. The only thing he could ever say around her was 'hi' which was always followed by a nervous 'uhhh….' or 'ummm…' He felt his heart swelling at the thought of her, beating as if it were panic stricken. Will discarded it and took his shower. After he bathed and dressed himself, he spent the rest of the morning waiting for his friends Horace and George to get to his house so they could ride to school. He fed his dog Ebony and made fleeted attempts to finish his math homework; mainly to distract himself from the thought of Alyss. A knock on the door spoiled his last minute efforts however. Will replaced his belongings back into his book bag and answered the door, allowing Horace and George into his house. They drove to the school, discussing the arriving first football game. Will was a running back, George was a corner, and Horace was a linebacker. As they pulled into 'student parking', they shifted their topic from the next football season to Will's shyness of Alyss.

"So, brash, bold, valiant Will Treaty, the man responsible for the game winning touchdown which won us regional championship last year, the desire of nearly every girl in the school, is still shy about approaching Alyss," Horace said. "For a guy like you, do you know how stupid that sounds?"

"A girl whose name is not as hot as Ashley or Cassandra," George added. "What is it about Alyss?" Will couldn't explain his attraction to her; she was to him, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He also couldn't explain his shyness whenever he was around her for it was still a mystery to him. They met their friends Jenny, Malcolm, Cassandra, and Crowley. They to the whole grade were probably the popular crowd. They didn't belittle people as they went along, but they didn't associate themselves with weird people. They patrolled the hallways of the school, teasing Will of his shyness towards Alyss. Will would discard it; no matter how hard he had tried, he just couldn't get over it. As they rounded a corner, Will's eyes fell upon a tall, grey-eyed blonde girl carrying her books in her chest. His heart was doing somersaults as he saw her; the last thing he had ever thought had been wiped away from his mind. Horace looked at Will and nudged him.

"There she is," he informed him. The rest of the group heard Horace's comment and turned to sneak a look at Alyss and then at Will, who was practically swaying on the spot. Horace nudged Will in the arm.

"What?" Will asked, dumbstruck. Horace stared at Will, a broad grin spreading across his face. Will regarded everyone who was watching him, expressions of expectancy looming on their faces. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Why don't you go talk to her?" Horace suggested. "Don't you think your shy streak should end?" Will opened his mouth to argue, but considered Horace's statement. He wanted more than anything to talk to Alyss, to just say a few words and not trip over them. Will inhaled deeply as if he thought the air would smell much sweeter when Alyss had passed by. He then shoved his book bag into Horace's gut, who grunted in surprise.

"Wh-where are you going?" he asked, gagging.

"To do what you said: to break my shy streak with Alyss!" Will told him as he hurried after Alyss. He quickly caught up to her. Alyss regarded him, her warm gray eyes staring back at him.

"Hi, Alyss," Will greeted, almost forcing her name out of his mouth. He opened his mouth again and faltered. Alyss smiled at him, admiring his failed words.

"Hey Will," she greeted back, brightly. Her voice was soft, friendly and warm.

"I uh….um," Will faltered. Alyss' smile did not dare fade from her face. "So, uh, where are you off to?"

"Chemistry, ugh," she replied. "It's rather boring, but I have to get through it, so…you know." Will followed her words. He breathed, sedating his nerves as if they were a wild animal.

"Do you mind if I walk with you?" Will offered. This question seemed particularly painful to ask. Alyss stopped and stared at him. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. The heartbreak of the school, the hero of the football team, Will Treaty was offering to walk with a girl like her.

"Yes!" she answered quickly, but enthusiastically. She caught herself before she allowed her excitement overcome her. "I mean, if you want to." Will thought about their upcoming first game against Miller, a team who has always had the biggest chance of beating them. They walked up the stairs together, occasionally sneaking glances at one another.

"So uh, what classes do you take?" Will asked her. He was kicking himself for asking; this question would surely make him like a stalker. Unknown to him, Alyss didn't perceive it that way.

"Advanced Chemistry, Trigonometry, Orchestra, German III, then I have lunch, then I go to History, Human Psychology, and English," Alyss recited so that Will could make a mental note in his head.

"You take Psychology?" Will asked her, curiously. It was way too obvious that he was trying to create small talk.

"Yeah, I really want to be a therapist," Alyss told him. "I like helping people get through their problems."

"Oh, that's cool," Will said.

"What classes are you taking?" Alyss asked him. "I mean, I know that that you're in my History class."  
>"Well, I've got English, Chemistry, Gym, Creative Writing, lunch," Will began. Alyss smiled at him.<p>

"Lunch isn't a class," she said in a joking manner. Will laughed lightly.

"You know what I mean," Will said. Alyss smiled heavily and nodded. Will ceased laughing, trying to remember where he had left off. "Oh yeah, I've History with you, French III, and Intro to Trigonometry." Alyss' eyes lit up when she heard that Will was taking French and Creative Writing.

"You take French?" she asked him. Will's heart was pounding. He couldn't believe that he had finally gotten this far in a conversation with her.

"Yeah, I'm like number one in the class," Will replied. Alyss smiled deeply at him.

"Say something in French for me," she requested. Will thought he heard the sound of crashing cars in his brain. He thought hard for a compliment that she surely would not understand.

"Tu es plus belle fille dans le monde entire pour moi," Will spoke. Alyss looked at him expectantly. "I guess you want a translation."

"It would help," Alyss remarked. Will didn't know how he was to lie and cover up what he had said. He had called her the most beautiful girl in the world and she had no idea.

"It means that you are looking really nice today," Will lied. Alyss blushed at his lie. She opened her mouth to say something in return, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of ringing bell. She looked disappointed, wishful that the bell didn't have to ring.

"Hey, I've got to go, I'm going to be late for first period," Alyss said in a disappointed tone. Will's heart sank as she finished her sentence. "I'll talk to you later Will." She stared at him as if she wanted to give him a hug goodbye, but resisted the impulse.

"I guess I'll see you in History," Will said in the same disappointed tone. "Bye."

"Bye Will," she bade wistfully. She turned strode into the nearest classroom, occasionally looking over shoulder back at Will, who stood there dumbstruck. He couldn't believe that he had finally had a full conversation with Alyss Mainwaring. A warm feeling filled his insides; he felt like bursting into song, but then again, he'd be late too if he did. He felt a smile on his face, a smile that he had never once worn, a smile of true admiration.

_Review Please! I really need some ideas for Will and Alyss and how to overcome his shyness._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Again, I do not own Ranger's Apprentice. Enjoy the story!_

Will walked into English class; the broad grin on his face had not dared leave his face. Horace and George, who were also in his class, buffeted him from either side, nearly knocking Will off his feet. Both of them bore the same curious look on their face, but confident grins. George nudged Will in the side.

"Come on Will, you can't be silent forever," George egged. Will opened his mouth to tell his tale, but no sound came out. Horace laughed.

"Give him a few minutes; his heart is probably beating so fast, Floyd "Money" Mayweather would go 'damn!'" Horace joked. Will and George laughed. Horace was right; Will's heart was beating rather fast. The door of the classroom shut and the teacher, Mr. Gilan walked in. Mr. Gilan was pretty funny, but he could also be a bit sarcastic in his humor. He was also the corner coach and he pushed George harder than he did anyone else. The rest of the period was long and tedious as they endured the story of 'Macbeth'. Horace passed a note underneath the desk to Will.

_ How did it go? _It read. Will looked around, careful of anyone who was looking at him. Will scribbled down his reply onto the torn sheet of paper.

_The streak is broken _he wrote. Will folded the paper and hurled it into the side of Horace's head. Unfortunately for Will, Mr. Gilan was monitoring his every move and stopped the audio track. He then walked over to Will and Horace, his hand outstretched. Horace retrieved the paper from the floor and placed it in his hand. Mr. Gilan then unfolded the paper and read it aloud to the class.

"'How did it go?'" He read. His eyes squinted at Will's response and an expression of confusion appeared on his face. Mr. Gilan regarded Will and his eyes fell back on the paper. "'The streak is broken.'" He continued to look back and forth between Horace and Will, who were remaining calm. Out of the corner of his eye, Will could make out the sight of George snickering mutely.

"How did what go?" Mr. Gilan asked the pair of them. "Who wrote that line?" Almost an instant the last word escaped his lips; Will's finger shot forward, implicating Horace. Mr. Gilan looked at Horace, expectancy looming on his face. Horace shot a look of protest at Will, but there was no way he could dig himself out of this hole.

"I suppose you want an explanation," Horace figured humorously. Will could hear George's uncontrolled giggles as the class eavesdropped at the three of them.

"Give it a shot," Mr. Gilan remarked sarcastically. Horace shot a just grin at Will whose heart sank. He was starting to regret selling Horace out.

"Will has liked this girl Alyss for two years now," Horace began. George gasped blatantly. Will felt disgruntled; it was easy to laugh when you aren't the one being frisked for answers. "And every time that he tried to approach her, he would stutter." George and Will picked up on the emphasis that Horace had in his statement. Horace continued with his story.

"Only girl this kid was ever shy around!" Horace teased. "But today, Will seemed to have managed to have a full conversation with her." Mr. Gilan looked as if he was fighting back a laugh. The bell rang and everyone rushed out of the classroom as if they were desperate to get away from the textbooks of which they were reading. George waited for Horace and Will just outside the classroom.

"This isn't over," Will warned to Horace in a joking manner. Horace laughed.

"Looking forward to it," Horace remarked. Will shook his head as they walked down the stairs where they met Cassandra and Jenny. They rushed up to Will, their faces bright and eager. Will couldn't tell if they were eager to hear details of his recent breakthrough or if there something that the three of them needed to know.

"We just met Alyss!" Cassandra announced brightly. Will's chest contracted at the sound of these words. He hoped the rest of what they had to say was good news. He stared at the pair of them.

"And?" he asked, egging them to continue on with their story.

"Oh my god, everyone has to go the mall this Saturday, Horace, Crowley, George, Halt…." Will cut them off at the sound of Halt's name. Halt was really good friends with Will and his group. He was also the quarterback and is supposedly one of the best in the state. Halt to everyone else, was the only person that could rival will when it came to stealing the breath of girls. But his personality was mysterious and Will had often chosen to avoid Halt before he himself got sucked into that life. Halt and Will would often try to 'outdo' each other to see how many girls would like one over the other. Halt and Will were pretty much even in every competition. But Will did not want a challenge from Halt, especially when the only thing he wanted in the world, other than to go to the NFL, was to be with Alyss.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Will ceased. "Number one, Halt does not get to hear about this!" Cassandra and Jenny exchanged confused glances with each other. They remembered every competition the two of them had; they thought that Will would not refuse an opportunity to prove his dominance over Halt.

"Why not?" Jenny asked. Will ignored her question.

"Number two, why are we going to the mall anyways?" Will demanded. Horace and George nodded in agreement.

"Because we need to talk about Alyss!" Jenny said urgently, as if this was supposed to be obvious. Will looked around at the group. Crowley walked up to them. The face on his black 'Disturbed' shirt was staring at Will menacingly. That face had always unnerved Will.

"What's up guys?" Crowley greeted. Will ignored him.

"Why don't you just tell me what happened when you met Alyss," Will huffed exasperated. A disappointed, but defeated look appeared on Cassandra's face.

"Fine," Cassandra said, disgruntled. "Alyss walked up to me and Jenny and asked if we were friends with you."

"And we told her that we were of course," Jenny added. "Then she started asking about you." Will's heart started to perform a victory lap in his chest at the sound of this.

"And what did she ask?" Will asked. Jenny and Cassandra giggled. _Giggling should be made illegal. _Will thought bitterly.

"Well she asked how close we are, if you were interested in someone," Jenny went on, adding emphasis on the second question. "Hint, hint." Will looked at her strangely. He almost wanted to sing as he heard this. Will opened his mouth to ask her how much Alyss liked him, but his words were drowned out by the sound of the bell. He cursed it under his breath. He, Crowley, George, and Horace bade Jenny and Cassandra goodbye. Will and George then left Horace and made their way to Chemistry. George nudged Will in the shoulder. Will turned to look at George, who had a widespread grin upon his face.

"What?" Will asked.

"So when are you going to ask her?" George asked him expectantly.

"Why would I ask her now?" Will instituted. "I was barely able to get through our conversation earlier this morning."

"Yeah, but you've adored her for two years," George pointed out. "All you used to do back then was talk about her; I bet you even dream about her." Will felt his cheeks burn from embarrassment. He wanted so desperately to escape this conversation, to return to his thoughts peacefully. But what had these thoughts done to him in 2 years? Will grew less and less confident in his abilities, just over the shyness he possessed for Alyss. The thought of her brought Will's heart to a pace that only a cheetah would know. Will and George arrived in Mrs. Pauline's classroom about thirty seconds late, but that would be enough for her to be set in a bitter mood for the remainder of the day. Mrs. Pauline was very adamant with a majority of students, but not when it came to athletes like Will and George. She detested them, what they do, and how they express their feelings of their matters. So naturally, she would glare at them, an unusual hateful glint in her eyes as they entered the room.

"You're late," she remarked as she scribbled something down in her notebook. "I suppose you boys just don't care enough about my class as you do Football and your reputations." Will and George exchanged glances with one another. They both had substantial marks in her class. But only George saw it fit to protest.

"Mrs. Pauline, Will and I both have A's right now," George pointed out. She shot them another glare as the words escaped George's mouth. Will thought he saw the vein in her temple throb; he could feel her anger from across the room. Mrs. Pauline sighed deeply.

"Take your seats," she huffed as she continued to write excessively. They took their seats next to each other in the front of the classroom. Will dropped his book bag under his table. As he reached down to retrieve his materials, he noticed something extrusive. Something was written in a place where if someone wasn't paying attention, they would never notice it. Will knew that Mrs. Pauline had taught an Advanced Chemistry class during first period. Of course, this wasn't the class that Alyss was in earlier. But she did have a friend named Delia who had Mrs. Pauline.

Will Alyss = Forever!

Will snuck a glance up at Mrs. Pauline to make sure she wasn't watching and brought is phone into position. He then snapped a picture and saved it. George noticed Will's actions and nudged him in the side.

"Careful, if Mrs. Pauline catches you, then you're a dead man," George whispered. Will shrugged and pulled up the photo. He then passed his phone into George's awaiting hands. He regarded it for a few seconds and looked back over at Will. A joking grin appeared on his face. "You wrote that didn't you?" Will snatched his phone away from George and tucked it safely back into his book bag.

"You know perfectly well that is not my handwriting!" Will hissed through gritted teeth. "It was written under the table." George looked confused for a moment until Will indicated the spot as to where he found it. George leaned over slightly, pretending to be retrieving something from his book bag and read it. As he pulled back up, he looked back at Will, his lips pursed.

"You couldn't have shown me this without handing me your phone!" George scolded. A loud sound, which would have been heard as a combination of displeasure and a woman clearing her throat for attention, emanated from the front. Will and George jumped as they saw Mrs. Pauline glaring at them.

"Will you two kindly stop your _very _important conversation long enough for me to teach?" she spat angrily. Will and George said nothing; Mrs. Pauline resumed her lesson. The bell rang an hour later, interrupting Will from his daydreams of Alyss and his "note taking". George looked at the picture that Will had been drawing underneath his notes in between Mrs. Pauline's lectures. He laughed slightly, but not slight enough that Will couldn't have noticed it. A pencil drawn image of a cartoon version of Will and Alyss holding hands was clearly visible on the page.

"You amaze me sometimes," George remarked. Will scowled and shut his notebook hurriedly before George could say anything else. They met Horace and Jenny in the hallway near the cafeteria. George began to tell them about the picture that Will had drawn, but Will elbowed him hard enough in the ribs that he ceased his tale. The bell rang and Will and Horace proceeded to Gym. Will changed and locked his belongings and the moment he walked out the locker room, he ran into someone that could only make things go from bad to worse.

"So I hear you have a thing for Alyss Mainwaring," Halt said in a wispy voice.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Will's heart could not have sunk any lower than it had the moment Halt crossed his vision. Halt was normally the last person to know anything about Will. But in this case, there was no way that Halt could have been much later about the knowledge of Will's love for Alyss. He stood there, his eyes staring almost emotionlessly, but dreamily at Will.

"Listen Halt," Will began, using his hands to aid him as he talked. "Any other girl, I would let you have, but please, I beg you…..please don't turn this into a contest." Halt's mouth twisted itself into what looked like a maniacal smile. The sight of this made his skin crawl.

"Why? Is famous Will Treaty afraid that his reputation as the 'Heartbreak Kid' will crumble?" Halt asked wistfully. "You don't know Alyss like I do." Will wished that he didn't have to swallow the fact that Halt was correct. Halt had spent much more time around her than Will. Will didn't really care about being called the 'Heartbreak kid', but he preferred not to be called that around Alyss or while talking about her.

"Halt, please I beg of you," Will plead. Halt raised his eyebrow at him as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I don't care about being the 'Heartbreak kid'; I just want to be with Alyss and nobody else." Halt laughed slightly.

"I see," he replied plainly. "So you've finally developed a heart?" Will stared at Halt rather reproachfully; wondering how he was going to respond.

"Yes, I've finally developed a heart," Will remarked sarcastically. "Halt, the other girls mean nothing to me. The only girl I have ever truly wanted was Alyss and I would do anything to be with her." Halt raised his eyebrows.

"Anything?" he asked testily. Will's heartbeat accelerated nervously; he didn't like where this was going. Halt seemed to be amused by what he was hearing. "So, Will Treaty, hero of Meadow Ridge, has finally been brought to his knees, begging, pleading at Alyss' feet, craving her love." This is exactly why Will often avoided Halt. He gulped; he knew Halt had something devious planned for him. Before either of them could say something else, Horace burst out from the locker room, pumped.

"Will, good news! We're playing football today!" Horace announced. Will and Halt made no acknowledgement. Horace's eyes fell upon Halt. "What does he have planned this time?" Halt sneered.

"You're hard to fool," he remarked. He then turned back to Will. "Will, if you would do anything for her, what say we make this interesting?" Will gulped at the sound of this.

"Why should I do what you say?" he demanded.

"Because Alyss though she's the smartest girl in the grade, is completely oblivious to your obvious love for her," Halt explained. His mouth twisted into a tricky smile. "However, that all can change in a heartbeat." Will felt his heart give a distressed lurch.

"How interesting are you talking about?" Will asked him.

"Whichever one of us wins her heart over, gets to date her," Halt told him. Will felt an icy chill race down his spine. He had never beaten Halt in this type of contest, but then again, Halt had never beaten Will either. The image of Halt holding hands with Alyss flashed through his mind. He felt horrified; two years of admiration that might bring him darkness that only he would ever come to know. But then again, it motivated him, pressuring him desperately to talk to Alyss. The rest of the period despite the fact that they were playing Football, seemed long, never-ending, tedious, and boring. After Will and Horace showered and changed, the bell rang. Horace looked at Will who was still shaken up after his confrontation with Halt.

"You nervous?" Horace asked him. Will shot a look at Horace, one filled with displeasure and disbelief.

"No Horace, I'm just shivering because I'm cold," Will snapped. Horace looked away from him, searching for a new topic. Unfortunately, there was none available.

"How do you expect to beat Halt?" Horace asked him. "Halt's shy of no girl." Again, Will shot Horace a reproachful look.

"Thank you Horace," he remarked. "I don't know how, he's known her a whole lot longer than I have."

"Not to mention Alyss knows you're the 'Heartbreak kid'," Horace added.

"Will everybody stop calling me that?" Will demanded angrily. "I'm tired of being called that, I hate that name!" Horace remained silent.

"Sorry," Horace apologized. "You've just got to get over your shyness for her."

"Don't you think I realize that?" Will asked him obviously. "Problem is a shy guy can't win over a guy who isn't shy." A thought passed through Horace's mind. He too, knew Alyss, but not as long as Halt had. Horace had been partnered with Alyss for a literature project in eight grade; they had written numerous poems at Alyss' request due to her love for them.

"I got it!" Horace announced. Will looked at him. "Remember how down you were when Evelyn dumped you in seventh grade?"

"What does that have to do with my situation?" Will demanded.

"Hear me out," Horace told him. "You had written her a love poem to win her heart back." Will recalled the poem; it was unsuccessful, but Evelyn did say that it was the sweetest thing that any guy had ever done for her.

"That was a complete failure and you know that," Will said.

"With Evelyn it was," Horace pointed out. "Alyss has a total love for poetry and you have Creative Writing right now right?" Will nodded.

"We're learning about poetry too," Will informed him.

"Write her one," Horace suggested. "Write her one that will even rival the likes of…..damn, what's a name of a good romantic poet?" Will pondered for a few seconds.

"Emily Dickinson," Will suggested.

"Right!" Horace spat with enthusiasm. Will stepped back a couple feet. "Write her a poem that could rival the best of Emily Dickinson!" Will laughed and bade Horace goodbye. He then proceeded to his class. In all honesty, in was more like a staircase combined with a classroom. They sat staring down at the board. Will's desk, or round table was at the very front like always. He thought about what he was to write.

_Write her a poem that could rival the best of Emily Dickinson. _Those words repeated themselves in Will's mind, annoying him greatly. He dropped his book bag at the side of the table and took out his notebook. The bell rang as the class took their seats, their pens and pencils ready for any writing that awaited them. Mr. Rodney, a short, stout man walked into the classroom and greeted the class brightly.

"I'm very much pleased that you show great enthusiasm for the art of writing!" he said blithely. Will leaned over across the table towards his partner.

"I'm pleased that he hasn't tried to make a move on any one of us yet," Will joked. Those who were eavesdropping laughed softly. Mr. Rodney continued on with his speech.

"I have read all your poems from yesterday and I must say that they were all delightful!" he continued on. "Today, you will be writing a Figurative Language poem!"

"What's that?" someone asked from the back of the room.

"It is a poem filled with figurative language, like similes, metaphors, and hyperboles," he explained. He then turned and lit a candle. As it burned, a sweet aroma that smelled like rain combined with the smell of pine filled the air. Will inhaled deeply, the aroma taking control of his mind. "Any poet, no matter how great they are, is capable of writing a poem of this stature of an aroma like this." Will leaned his head on his hand, crawling on the words of Mr. Rodney's long, droning speech. At last, Mr. Rodney had finally said: "You are free to begin writing now." Will opened his notebook and thought long and hard about what he wanted to write. Of course he would have to make a copy of it somehow to give to Alyss. He closed his eyes, thinking of the smell of the candle, how sweet it smelled. He then thought about Alyss and how sweet the feeling would be to hold her hand, to hold her in his arms. He felt a smile on his face and his hand writing on the paper as if he no longer had control. Already, he had written both sides of the page. He restarted on a fresh sheet, emotions pouring from his mind and onto the paper. As he scratched the last word, the bell rang and everyone groaned in displeasure.

"No need to worry, I will give you time at the start of class to finish your poems," he announced. He held out his hand towards the door, beckoning them all to leave. Vance closed his notebook hurriedly and rushed out of class, desperate to get to his friends before the lunch rush overwhelmed him. He found Horace, George, Cassandra, Jenny, and Crowley just outside the cafeteria doors, talking frantically. Jenny was the first to take notice of him.

"Will!" she shouted, dashing up to him. "You can't be serious! You and Halt! That's…it's….it's just not right! You're seriously not going to do this are you?" Will would've given anything in the world, except for Football, to say that he wasn't. But of course, he couldn't.

"I have to," Will said depressingly. "Halt threatened to tell Alyss of my huge crush on her." They walked towards the group, discussing Will's situation.

"But it's kind of obvious isn't it?" Crowley asked Will. "You've liked her for two years and every time you've tried to talk to her, you've stuttered."

"Yeah, but according to Halt, she doesn't know how I feel about her," Will told them. Horace and the rest of the group groaned in unison.

"Will, you've known Halt long enough that he loves to toy with your mind," Cassandra scolded. "He tries to make you lower your guard, shift favor to his side." They got their lunch and sat down at a table closest to the doors.

"But what if Halt isn't lying?" Will asked. "The whole thing could crumble and he'll still win." Horace coughed nonchalantly. Will heard the word 'poem' come out of his mouth. Jenny, Cassandra, George, and Crowley looked at him and then back at Will.

"Did you forget about what I told you?" Horace asked Will.

"What did you tell him?" Cassandra demanded. "Horace, you could cost Will Alyss' heart!" Horace's eyes glowed brighter.

"Ah but there is something about her that Will could exploit," Horace said wistfully. Crowley looked at Horace strangely.

"You're beginning to sound like Halt," he remarked.

"Hold on, Crowley, what can Will exploit?" George asked Horace.

"Remember the literature project I got paired with her on in eighth grade?" Horace began. Everyone nodded their heads; they recalled how ridiculous Horace sounded reciting a poem that had clearly been written by Alyss. "Well, she is in love with poetry and I suggested to Will that he write her a nice poem.

"Those were not the words you told me though," Will argued. "You said to write a romantic poem so good that it could rival the best of Emily Dickinson." Horace swiped his hand in the air as if he were swinging at a bug.

"Same thing," he argued. "My point is that Will could win her over easily if he did that."

"But Will is still extremely shy around her," Jenny pointed out. "Writing a love poem is kind of useless if you don't have the guts to give it to her." Cassandra nodded in agreement. George and Crowley were whispering off to the side. Cassandra regarded them.

"What are you two talking about?" she asked them. They looked up, mischievous expressions on their faces.

"What if Will wasn't shy around her?" George suggested. Jenny groaned and put her hand in his face.

"George, enough with the 'Defearinator' idea," Jenny said exasperated. She recalled the first time that Will had told them he was shy around Alyss. George had mentioned a false invention that could make Will 'un-shy'.

"No not that!" George argued. "Will just needs practice." He looked around the cafeteria as if scouting a battlefield. Horace and Will regarded him, confused and strange expressions visible on their face. George pointed off in the distance at a short blonde girl with blue eyes. She wore a purple shirt with blue jeans, pink and white striped socks, and fur slippers. "Go talk to Ashley, pretend she's Alyss."

"That is the dumbest idea I have ever heard," Will remarked. Jenny and Cassandra agreed with him.

"George you do know that Ashley's had a thing for Will since second grade right?" Cassandra reminded him. "If Will goes to talk to her, then the whole thing could turn around and bite him." George comprehended her statement. His ears went pink.

"Well excuse me if I go talk to her," George said slyly, standing up from the table and walking over to Ashley. Crowley shook his head.

"It's amazing he can tell the bathrooms apart," Crowley remarked. Everyone laughed. "But George's idea isn't entirely wrong. Practice talking to her, that'll make it so much easier to give her the poem." Will pondered on it for a moment.

"How do I 'practice' talking to her?" Will asked him. Horace shrugged.

"Talk to a mirror?" Horace suggested. Will shook his head and turned away. He felt a tap on his shoulder; Will turned to find Cassandra staring at him expectantly.

"What?" he asked her. Cassandra said nothing; instead she pointed behind her. Will turned again and at that moment, he felt his breathing cease and his heartbeat stopped.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_I do not own Ranger's Apprentice. Enjoy!_

Alyss stood gazing at him, playing with her hands. His mouth felt as if it were glued shut. Alyss waved slightly at him.

"H-hi Will," she greeted. Will opened his mouth, but no sound came out. It looked as if he was speaking silent words. He could heart soft snickering emanating behind him. Alyss regarded the laughing twosome. "What's wrong with those two?" Will huffed, gathering his thoughts.

"F-forget them," he told her. Alyss let out a humored breath combined with a smile. "So uh…um…" Alyss laughed softly again, smiling at Will's failed attempts. The low snickers behind him magnified; Horace and Crowley sounded as if they couldn't breathe. Will placed a kick in Horace's foot who grunted in surprise. Jenny and Cassandra stood up.

"We'll leave you two alone," they announced. Horace and Crowley yelped as Jenny and Cassandra dragged them away from a stuttering Will and a timid Alyss. Alyss glanced at the empty seat in front of Will as if it were something large and intimidating.

"Can I uh, sit down with you?" she asked him nervously. Will's heart gave a nervous lurch. He thought about the poem he had written her in Creative Writing, the challenge issued to him by Halt, and the moment he had finally made it through a whole conversation with her.

"Yes, I mean um if you want to," Will accepted. Alyss smile did not make any attempt to leave her face. She brushed her sleek blonde hair with her hand and slowly sank down into the seat beside Will. "So uh, what are you doing here?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to come over and talk," she answered softly. Will felt something heavy in his throat, prohibiting his answer to become vocal. "We never really got to talk this morning." Will recalled his wish, his desire that they had more time this morning.

"Yeah, I wish we had more time," Will agreed. Alyss let out a soft giggle of admiration. Will paid no attention to it. His eyes wandered around the lunchroom. Every eye of every girl was on him, jealous looks all directed at Alyss.

"So uh, Will, you never really told me what you do in Creative Writing," Alyss started off. Will's heart throbbed painfully in his chest; he tried to think of some way to bring up the poem.

"Well, we uh, learn about certain writing styles," he explained, trying to overcome his shyness. Alyss looked at him curiously.

"What do you mean by styles?" she asked him.

"Genres and types," Will corrected. "You know like novels, stories, and poetry." He prayed that Alyss would not notice the nervous tone in the way he had mentioned poetry. Unfortunately, that wish was not to come true. A great smile appeared on her face. Will started to feel thankful for Horace's avail.

"I love poetry!" she said enthusiastically. "Do you write poems?" Will's breathing slowed slightly and his heartbeat gradually returned to its normal pace. He had her right where he wanted he wanted her to be.

"Yeah, I have like a bank vault at home," Will joked. Alyss let out another soft laugh.

"I'd like to read some of them sometime," Alyss hinted. Sadly, Will was completely oblivious to her conspicuous inference.

"I can bring one tomorrow, if uh, you want me to," Will said nervously. Alyss smiled at him.

"I'd like that," she stated. Will felt a warm sensation in his heart, one that he had never before felt in the presence of any other girl. He wanted to mention the poem he had written earlier, but he decided against it. They sat their silently and awkwardly for a few minutes, searching for a new topic. "So Will, I heard you play Football." Will felt as if his tension had just been relieved. Finally a topic that he could talk about easily.

"Yeah, it's pretty much my life!" Will told her enthusiastically.

"What position do you play?" she asked him.

"I start at running back," Will replied. He thought about the upcoming game against Miller. He had never seen Alyss at a Football game; he didn't know if she would accept should he invite her to go and watch him. However, the words slipped out of his mouth at a rushed pace. Thankfully, Alyss wasn't able to comprehend his involuntary invitation. But at that point it was too late; the damage had already been done.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," she apologized. Will sighed. He wished he had better control of his actions.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come see the game next Friday night against Miller," Will invited, speaking the words slowly enough for her to register.

"Yeah of course I'll come!" she accepted enthusiastically. Will's heart rejoiced at the sound. He felt as if he could write a hundred love poems at that very moment, describing every sweet, breathtaking emotion that he could feel. Before he could say anything else, he felt a hand on his arm trying to drag him off. Will looked up to see Horace staring at him expectantly.

"What do you want?" Will inquired irritably.

"You need to see this, now," Horace told him. A serious look was on his face and Will knew that he couldn't discard this. He looked at Alyss; all the joy, all the celebration he had felt in his chest had quickly died away.

"I uh, I've got to go Alyss," he said disappointedly. "I'll see you in History." Alyss eyes had dimmed; she wished that whatever happened had never happened. Will felt the same way; wishing, longing that whatever it was didn't need to involve his presence. However, he quickly saw that if he didn't, other things would've turned nasty. George and Halt were face to face, noses pressed against each other. They looked as if they pushed any harder against each other, their noses would break. Everyone watching had formed a crowd, encircling the two of them. Will noticed George's left hand. He was left handed and preferred to hit with it. It was prepared to strike. He saw Halt mutter something to George. Will darted forward, catching George's fist before it connected with the side of Halt's jaw. George whipped around angrily, staring at Will with intense confusion. Will saw an ominous smile form on Halt's face out of the corner of his eye.

"What are you doing?" George demanded.

"Number one, keeping both of you on the team," Will replied with intensity. "Number two, trying to find out what's crawled underneath your skins." George and Halt backed away; neither was daring to take their eyes off each other. Instead, it was Crowley who answered.

"Halt decided to extend the competition to a third person," Crowley told Will. Will turned to George; he felt as if he was going to hit him himself.

"Do you like Alyss?" he asked him.

"No, I don't!" he replied angrily. "He's trying to get me to make a bet as to which one of us can win Ashley's heart." Will put his face in his palm. Halt just loved to stir up emotions in whoever crossed his path. Before Will could comprehend what happened, Halt dove over the heads of various onlookers at George. Horace's reactions were more than perfect. George felt himself on his back and Halt came down into Horace's powerful arms. He then set Halt down, keeping the distance between him and George.

"Look, you two can fight at practice later!" Horace bellowed. "At least then the police won't get involved!" George and Halt eased up, but the glares that they directed at one another had not yet died away. Halt sank away into the crowd; George was still fuming after the bell had rang.

"Why can't he just stay away from everyone else's heart?" George demanded. Will shook his head. He wondered that too. Halt had chosen this day to get involved with Will and Alyss; what was his purpose for that? He saw Alyss out of the corner of his eye walking alone, her books clutched tightly to her chest. His heart lurched at her like an untrained dog on a leash pulling to investigate everything and everyone around it. Will broke himself away from Horace and George and made his way over to Alyss. He bumped her softly to attract her attention. Alyss looked up and smiled.

"Hey," she greeted. They stared at each other for a few seconds, both were confounded and at loss for words. The only sound that could be heard from the pair was failed banter attempts. Finally, Alyss was able to break the silence between them. "So uh, what time is the game next Friday?"

"It starts at 8, but the team has to be on the field at 7:15 for last minute practice," Will explained. "Believe me, against Miller, we need every little bit."

"Are they good?" Alyss asked him.

"They were state champions the last two years," Will replied. "We lost to them last year by a field goal." Alyss looked sympathetic.

"Aw, I'm sorry," she sympathized. Her eyes widened as if she had suddenly just remembered something. "Hey, my birthday is next Saturday night, I was wondering maybe if you and your friends wanted to come?" Will thought he saw his heart beat through his chest.

"Yeah of course!" Will accepted brightly. Alyss smiled deeply at him; she knew that know birthday party would ever compare to her party.

"Awesome! I've got a pool, so, you know where that leads to," she informed him. Will laughed. They walked into History where Horace, Crowley, George, and Malcolm were standing about, conversing and laughing with one another. Horace looked up and his eyes drank in the image of Will walking beside Alyss. He pointed the pair out to George, Crowley and Malcolm. None of them spoke a word, but projected their encouraging smiles in Will's direction. Alyss dropped her books and her bag next a desk against the wall. Will stared at the desk next to her as if it were a prized jewel that he wanted to steal. He inched forward, looking like a baby first learning to walk. He could hear low snickers behind him; he shot a look behind him at Horace, George, and Malcolm who held their hands up in false innocence. Alyss noticed his behavior and experienced a conflict trying not to laugh herself. His shyness was discernible to her; she found him much more desirable that way.

"Is it okay if I sit here?" Will asked her. Alyss smiled deeply at him, locked in a teasing trance. Will raised an eyebrow at her. "Alyss?" She jumped as if she had been surprised.

"What?" She asked shocked.

"Is it okay if I sit here?" Will repeated. Alyss breathed softly, embarrassed of what Will had to see. She wanted to hide her undeserving face from him.

"Yeah, sure," she accepted, but not with her usual bright manner. Will dropped his book bag next to the desk and sank down into the seat. Alyss buried her face in her hands, desperate to hide herself from him. Will recognized this; he leaned over to Alyss, putting his hand on her shoulder. Alyss felt a warm wave come over her, a safe feeling, a feeling of comfort, a feeling of love. No other feeling that she had felt before could compare to this, even deserve to be called feelings. Alyss followed the impulse from Will's touch and she picked her head up. She regarded him with her admiring gray eyes gazing back into his lustrous brown eyes. The fleeting emotions had seized Will, taking a hold of his mind. He forgot about what he was going to say. Every person around him no longer existed; the only thing that was alive at this moment was Alyss. The sound of the bell ringing had brought Will and Alyss back to reality. Will shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing at Horace, George and Malcolm. Horace gave him thumbs up sign while George and Malcolm laughed uncontrollably. Will ignored them and stared at the desk for the rest of the period. He pulled out his writing notebook and read his poem in between the silence of the teacher's lectures. Alyss looked over at Will and noticed his poem. She tapped him on the shoulder. He looked over at her and the moment his eye had fallen upon her, he closed his notebook hurriedly and stuffed it back into his book bag. A smile crossed her face as she watched Will sloppily replace his notebook. The bell rang an hour later; Will felt relieved. For the first time, he wanted to get away from her in case she had read any word of his poem. No poem, not even of the composure of Edgar Allen Poe or Emily Dickinson, had ever drawn her attention as much as Will's poem had. The only word she could make out was shyness. She hoped and prayed that it meant what she had desired for two lengthy years. Will's next two classes were painful and exhausting enough that he barely had enough energy for football practice. Coach Duncan organized a defense to replicate Miller's style of defense for their offense to get use to battling. Halt took the first snap and handed the ball off to Will. Will sprinted a yard forward before he felt three bodies crash simultaneously into his. He shook off the pain, pushing himself to do better. Halt took the second snap and tossed to Will who sprinted down the sideline like a cheetah. Right when he felt the end zone was a few yards away, his right foot caught his left leg and he landed face first on the grass. He spat and cursed, unbelieving of what was happening. The offense moved forward to the spot of the ball. Once Will made his way back to the huddle, Halt was gazing at him shaking his head.

"What is wrong with you?" he scolded. "That's two failed plays, stop thinking about Alyss and focus!" Will felt like driving his body at Halt and beat him until he was unconscious, but Halt's accuracy prevented him from doing so. The thought of defeating Halt, of being with Alyss had filled his mind and had made it extremely difficult for him to focus. The huddle broke and Will crouched down, prepared for his third run. Halt took the snap and shoved it into Will's awaiting grasp. He leaped over the dueling lineman and faced a defiant Horace. The two lowered their heads and Will drove forward, knocking both him and Horace into the end zone. A loud crack filled the air followed by a simultaneous 'ooohhh' from the on looking players on the sidelines. Will and Horace shook off the pain and their way back to the sideline. Halt clapped Will on the shoulder as they made their way to the water coolers. The sweet feeling of cold water splashing on his face relieved his stress as if he were taking off his shoulder pads. The rest of the practice seemed much more feasible; the team's confidence of defeating Miller was soaring high. Along with that was Will's confidence of finally fulfilling his most desired dream of being with Alyss.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_Again I do not own Ranger's Apprentice and I never will. Enjoy the chapter._

A week had passed; every emotion was running high. It was finally game day at Meadow Ridge High School. Tension of school pride had never been more intense as the Eagles took on their bitter rival, Miller Knights. Both Will's emotions and George's emotions were running chaotic in their minds; their crushes were both attending the football game and the worry of performing less than perfect had dropped both of their tolerance levels to significantly low. Will's #23 dark green and silver jersey was draped over top of him like a tabard. He and Alyss had gradually overcome their shyness towards each other and were escorting each other to classes. Will's friends were goading him to ask Alyss, but he had something special planned. He remembered that Alyss had invited him and his friends to her birthday party and he planned on telling her then. Horace, George and Cassandra jumped at the idea of a pool party, but Jenny and Malcolm were not all excited, but accepted the invitation anyway. Malcolm wearing his #18 jersey and George in his #25 jersey had taken to throwing a football in the cafeteria. Horace wearing his #51 jersey, paced back and forth muttering to himself while Will sat with Halt on a table nearby George and Malcolm, reviewing their playbook. Halt had ceased his interventions in Will's and George's love lives and was growing less mysterious. However, the contests were still in place; Will and George were very confident in their chances of defeating Halt. Jenny and Cassandra came into the cafeteria dressed in their dark green and silver cheerleading uniforms. Jenny walked up to George and startled him so much that the ball had hit his face instead of his hands.

"What?" he demanded, rubbing his cheek. Malcolm was doubled over on the floor, howling with laughter. Jenny stared at him strangely.

"What's wrong with you guys?" Jenny asked them concerned. "You've been tense all week! Lighten up!" Horace looked at her, a reproachful glare in his eyes.

"We're playing a team that we haven't beaten in five years!" Horace growled. "How are we supposed to 'lighten up'?" Jenny remained silent; she sat down beside Will at the table, watching George and Malcolm resume their throwing. Cassandra took the seat underneath Halt.

"What are you two reading?" she asked them. "A wedding portfolio?" Halt glared at her from behind the binder.

"Leave us alone, we've got a lot to go over," Halt told them, returning his gaze to the various defensive and offensive diagrams. Cassandra turned her attention to Will.

"I guess there's no need to ask how you're feeling," she guessed. Will said nothing. He kept his eyes fixed on the binder as if there a large bug on it, but nodded. Cassandra laughed. Stressful minutes ticked away as Jenny and Cassandra listened to Will and Halt discuss plays and reverse plays. Malcolm leapt to the side, snatching the ball out of the air. His hands were inches from Jenny's face. She slapped his hands away playfully; Malcolm dropped the football. He looked at Jenny and smiled jokingly. Jenny picked the ball back up and threw back to George. Horace dropped his pace and sat down next to Cassandra. Will looked up and saw Alyss walk in, her books clutched tight to her chest. He shot Halt an inquiring look. He waved his hand lazily.

"Go ahead," he allowed. Will pushed himself off the table and made his way over to Alyss. Her brilliant had formed the moment their eyes had met in a sweet gaze. After a few seconds of silence, Alyss cleared her throat.

"So, you uh, ready for tonight?" she asked him. Will nodded, his eyes not daring to take their sight off of her.

"Yeah, I'm just really tense though," Will admitted. "We haven't beaten Miller in five years." Alyss nodded, hanging on every word he said. Her beauty seemed to be relieving him of the burden that hung on his shoulders that was his tension. The pressure of asking her was mounting though. He mentally shook it off.

_I'm going to be with Alyss, I'm going to be with Alyss! _This thought repeated itself over and over inside his mind. They walked the halls until the bell tolled. Will and Alyss bade a reluctant goodbye and made their way to class. The rest of the day felt amazing; Will and Alyss had rarely spent a moment apart from each other for every second of not breathing the air of the other person was like being stabbed in the chest. Will almost wished that he didn't have to go to the field house; he'd much rather be with Alyss than be driven to the ground repeatedly by a team whose bodies looked as if they were built of steel. Will could guarantee that George felt the same way about Ashley, but then again, George and Horace spent more time putting people on their backs so it wouldn't have the same affect. Will and the rest of the team finished up their last minute practice and the team changed out and sat in the locker room, awaiting the order to get dressed. Will turned on his IPod, listening to his pump up playlist to recreate his mood for the game. He chose the song _Here to Show the World _by Downstait. He pictured himself sprinting down the field, dodging linebackers and safeties, and gliding smoothly into the end zone. A slick smile appeared on his face. He then pictured Alyss in the stands, smiling impressed at his heroism as he paraded down the sideline. The next song _Invincible _by Adelitas Way depicted a clip of Will running over a hulking linebacker in his mind. Horace sat next to him and requested Will's headphone. Will handed it to him; Horace pushed it into his ear and leaned his head back, taking in every lyric of the song. At long last, the doors of the Varsity locker room opened and Coach Duncan had given the signal to dress. Will and Horace strapped each other's shoulder's pads and pulled on their pants. They then put on their cleats, tying them so tight that their feet might not have space to breathe. Horace called a last minute gathering before the coach had given the signal to make their way onto the field.

"Last year, we came this close…" Horace brought his fingers, showing a miniscule space in between. "To breaking our losing streak against Miller! Do we want this year to be a repeat?" His voice bounced off the walls as the team roared in refusal.

"Are we going to be the stepping stone for Miller to have the state championship a third year in a row?" Horace bellowed. The team roared in defiance again. "We were regional champions last year! What say we take that one step further! What say we begin our legacy tonight?" The sound of the team's uproars could probably be heard outside in the stands. Horace gestured for Will to come forward.

"Last year, we were 15 – 1 with Miller as the blemish on our record!" Will began. "What say we erase all that tonight? What say we take back the perfect record that should be ours?" Defiance filled the air once again.

"This is our field, our turf! It begins tonight!" Will shouted. "Our past success is forgotten! Are we going to let them take another state championship away from us?" Screams of a united no filled the air once again. Will started to feel the blood pumping against his veins.

"WHOSE HOUSE IS THIS?"

"OUR HOUSE!"

"WHOSE HOUSE IS THIS?"

"OUR HOUSE!"

"WHOSE TIME IS THIS?"

"OUR TIME!"

"WHOSE TIME IS THIS?"

"OUR TIME!"

"HANDS UP!" Will shouted. "EAGLES ON 3. 1…2…3!"

"EAGLES!" Almost on cue, the coach gave the signal. As one, the team pulled on their helmets, motivational yells issuing from behind every facemask. The doors of the locker room banged open as Halt led the team onto to field. Miller was on the other side of the field, preparing for the long battle that was to come, pulling their gold and burgundy jerseys over their shoulder pads. Will, Horace, Halt, George, and Malcolm fixed the stretching lines. The coaches then separated them by position going through last minute plays and drills. Horace and Will then were called to the fifty yard line, standing across three massive captains from Miller. Will called the toss, choosing to defer at the coach's request. He noticed the smirk on the biggest player across from him. Will remembered him well; he was a safety and had made it his point to try to hurt Will just enough to take him out of the game. Will gripped his hand when told to shake hands. He felt as if the guy was trying to break his fingers. If this were Halt instead of Will, it would certainly be necessary. He snuck a glance over at Horace who was shooting a death glare at the other two captains. They turned away from each other, standing to face the American flag as they listened to the national anthem. They pulled on their helmets and readied themselves to burst through the banner the cheerleaders had made.

"Welcome to first game of the season as we see Meadow Ridge Eagles take on the Miller Knights!" the commentator introduced. The stands and the teams listened as each player and coach was introduced. Will turned around saw Alyss in front, sitting beside her friends Delia and Julie. The stands went silent as the kicking team was called to the field. Will held his breath as he saw the kicker John Buttle's cleat emit a thunderous kick, sending the ball soaring through the air as if it were a bird. The returning runner received the ball and began sprinting down the field. Will watched with pride as Horace rampaged through blockers and crashed into the ball carrier. Will's heart jumped as he saw the Football jumped from the runner's grip and onto the ground. George noticed it and dove, securing the ball against his chest. Whistles were blowing from every direction ever thought possible as players piled on, trying to dislodge the ball. As the crowd dispersed, George came up with the ball. Will rejoiced as he strapped on his helmet and ran after Halt onto the field. They were only 25 yards from the end zone, already in field goal position.

"Tackled by number 51 of the Eagles, Horace Altman, fumble recovered by number 25, George Carter of the Eagles!" the commentator called. Halt listened for the coach's call to make the play.

"I 80 reverse," he informed us. "I 80 reverse on go, on go, ready break!" The huddle dispersed and made its way to the line of scrimmage. The crowd went silent as they watched breathlessly, praying for an early touchdown. Will crouched down, awaiting the snap.

"Down, 180…180 set go!" Halt growled, taking the snap. A loud crack filled the air as the offense collided with the defense. Halt pitched the ball out to Will's awaiting arms. Will took off down the sideline, hunched over the ball as if it were a treasure he was trying to hide. He felt the rush of wind in his helmet as he sprinted. He leapt over a diving linebacker, danced out of reach of a lone safety, and thundered into the end zone. The whistle sounded, the referee held his hands in the air. The stands were celebrating once again; the banging on the metal could be heard amongst the yells of spectators. Will celebrated with his team, waving his hands upward to increase the volume of the stands.

"TOUCHDOWN MEADOW RIDGE!" the commentator boomed through the microphone. Will watched as the zero underneath the home team quickly changed to a six. The field goal unit sprinted onto the field with vigor, as if drawing strength from the touchdown. A loud kick emanated; Will, the rest of the team, and the stands watched as the ball spun through the air and through the rows. The referee once again held his hands up and the kicking unit returned to the sidelines, celebrating their success. "The extra point is good!" The angry shouts of Miller's coaches could be heard on Will's side of the field; he could feel their displeasure at the defense and their failure to stop the touchdown. Horace and George strapped back up for kickoff, running onto the field, ready to inject more frustration into the Miller coaches. John Buttle punted the ball across the field once again. Miller's return team looked as if they had devised a new strategy, keeping three stocky blockers nearby their return runner. Horace engaged two of the blockers; George darted past the third and dove onto the ball carrier. Unlike the last attempt, the ball did not leave the runner's hands, but it still had put the defense in an exemplary field position. But to add tension to the teams and the spectators, yellow flags were thrown through the air.

"Flag on the play against the returning team," the commentator announced. The referee looked up at the box.

"Personal Foul: block in the back, number 44 on the returning team. 15 yard penalty, 1st down!" the referee announced. Will saw the anger of the other coach clear across the field as the Meadow Ridge supporters cheered at the call. Coach Chubbs, the defensive coordinator called out a play to Horace as the other gathered around him. Those who were watching heard Horace's gruff voice announce the play and break the huddle. The defensive line crouched down into their flawless stances, Horace and the two other linebackers squat down, balanced and awaiting the ball. George remained upright as he stood across his respected receiver.

"Down, wide 80, wide 80 set go!" Miller's quarterback shouted, taking the snap from the center. He shoved the ball into the fullback's grasp as he pounded up the middle. Horace spotted his opportunity; he lowered down and drove his body into the fullback, driving him onto his back.

"Number 22 of the Knights, Keren Skinner on the run. Tackled by number 51 of the Eagles, Horace Altman for a short loss," the commentator informed the spectators. Horace and the defense celebrated with one another, until five different whistles sounded and flags had been thrown about. "Flag on the play and looks to be against Meadow Ridge." Will groaned, wondering what they could possibly be penalized for. But then again, Horace had led with his head slightly. The referee turned to face the spectators.

"Personal Foul: Unnecessary Roughness, number 51 on the defense, 15 yard penalty, repeat first down!" the referee announced. The anger of Miller's coaches seemed to have dissipated at the sound of the call. Coach Chubbs told Horace to forget about it and called the next play out to him. That was one thing about Horace that Will loved; he could shake off any mistake and still perform exceptionally well. Once the defense had broken its huddle, they created their formation, awaiting the next snap.

"Down, wide 80, wide 80, set go!" Miller's quarterback growled. He faked a run to the full back which worked perfectly. Horace had taken the bait and plowed through the decoy. But the confusion on his face had told the story. Miller's quarterback dropped back to pass, scouting around for an open receiver. He lobbed it into the air; Will's heart sank as he watched it fly deep down the field. George noticed it too; his eyes were fixed upon the ball as he sprinted like a gazelle towards it. He flew as if he had somehow grown wings and snatched the ball out of the air. He then took off down the field dodging desperate linemen and a running back. He glided smoothly into the end zone as he heard the stands erupt in another wave of excitement. Will could hear Ashley calling out his name in a combination of impression and deep admiration. George tossed the ball back to the referee as he dashed back to the sideline and pointed in her direction; Will pictured her clutching her chest in honor as her cheeks flushed a deep red.

"Interception by number 25 of the Eagles results in a touchdown!" the commentator shouted. The scoreboard increased by six, making it 13 – 0 Eagles. The field goal unit was once again called to the field. Will greeted George and Horace, congratulating George on his prominent play. They heard the kick down the field followed by the gleeful uproar from the stands as the field goal unit returned to the sidelines. "Kick by number 12, John Buttle of the Eagles, is good!" An extra point was added to their half of the scoreboard. The kicking unit had taken the field yet again. Will thought John was going to pull a leg muscle in the first half if they were able maintain this pattern. He glanced up at the scoreboard and saw that they had 50 seconds left on the clock. Will hoped that the team wouldn't let their guard down, Miller was more than capable of defeating them. John kicked the ball so close to end zone that Will was afraid that they were going to get a touchback. But Miller looked as if they had expected this. The receiver caught the ball in his chest and took off behind his wall of blockers. Will felt confident that Horace would be the one to catch the runner, but two blockers dove and caught Horace in the side of the thigh. The runner leapt over Horace's body and danced away from other desperate players. He was well past the mass of humanity at the middle of the field and sprinted easily into the end zone. The other side of the field finally had their opportunity to celebrate. Underneath the silver letters spelling 'Away', the number six had replaced the cruel, relentless zero.

"TOUCHDOWN, KNIGHTS!" the commentator boomed through the megaphone, Their field goal unit had brought them the same success, taking their score up by a point. Will and Malcolm strapped on their helmets and followed Halt and the rest of the kick return unit onto the field for the first time. Will watched as the ball was booted from the other end of the field. Malcolm received the ball as he and Will took off down the field. Will crouched down and engaged an oncoming defender. Off in the distance, he heard Malcolm's grunts followed by a body landing on the ground.

"Returned by #18 Malcolm Geldon for a gain of twenty for the Eagles," the commentator announced. "Stopped by #42 of the Knights, Orman Kerrick." The clock sounded, announcing the end of the first quarter. Will felt pride rising in his chest. They were ahead of Miller and had another opportunity to score. He felt that this night just might belong to Meadow Ridge.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The offense repositioned themselves on the other side of the field, preparing for their drive to the goal. The song _'Hell's Bells' _by ACDC came on over the loudspeakers. Will heard the clear echo bouncing throughout the stadium. Will squirted water in his mouth, listening to the coach's new strategy for the second quarter. Against Miller, a change of tactics almost seemed essential if they wanted any chance at stealing the win. Meadow Ridge relied mainly on the running backs; hence the reason Will was considered the best in the state. In this case however, Halt's throw could rival any touchdown pass from Peyton Manning. Halt rarely has the opportunity to pass, so being able to identify one in a split second would be slightly more difficult. Will listened to the play that the coach was making for the first two downs. They were called back to the field and they quickly organized their huddle.

"I 20 bootleg," Halt announced quietly. "I 20 bootleg on two, ready break!" The huddle broke and the offense made their way to the line of scrimmage for the second time. Halt twisted his head around, checking to see if his formation was correct. Will crouched down, watching the defense, praying that they would take the bait.

"Down, 180, 180 set go!" Halt yelled. The offense did not dare move an inch, but Will saw the nose guard lurch forward slightly. The whistle sounded and the bright yellow flag was thrown again. The Miller coaches were screaming angrily, frustrated at their constant mistakes.

"Flag on the play against Miller," the commentator informed the spectators. The referee turned and faced upward into the stands while the offense and the defense moved forward five yards.

"Offsides: #56 on the defense, 5 yard penalty, remains first down," the referee called. Miller's players began scolding each other, their gruff voices emitting the words: "Watch the ball!" Halt listened for the coach's call and reformed the huddle.

"I 20 bootleg," he repeated. "I 20 bootleg on go, on go ready break!" Will crouched down once again, wishing that they could run something different. Halt squatted down beneath the center.

"Down, 180, 180, set go!" Halt yelled, taking the snap. Will watched the nose guard falter slightly, probably expecting a second signal. Will rushed forward and took the ball from Halt as he leapt overtop the nose guard's back. From what he could recall, Will never remembered touching the ground with his feet when the play ended. The middle linebacker lowered his body and slammed into Will, sending him a yard backwards.

"Number 23 of the Eagles, Will Treaty on the run," the commentator began. "Stopped by number 52, Eric Svengal for a short loss." He lay sprawled his back, trying to gather his thoughts. He could hear Miller's defense celebrating. Halt offered his hand to Will. Will took it and pulled himself to his feet. Halt clapped him on the chest and turned away to receive the coach's call. Halt called for the huddle again. Will shook his head, trying to relieve the slight pain in his neck.

"26 kickout," he said quickly. "26 kickout on go, on go ready break!" The offense reformed on the line; the defense scrambled about, calling strengths and coverage. Will replaced his mouthpiece back into his mouth. He bit down hard, sedating his nerves.

"Down! 180, 180 set go!" Halt yelled. He pitched the ball out to Will whose feet were moving so fast that they were nothing but a blur. He dodged a diving defensive end, a corner, and a linebacker. What Will did not notice was the very large safety, the captain that had tried to break his hand earlier. The safety crouched down and drove his entire body into Will's knee. Will fell over him face first into the ground. His knee was padded, but it felt it had just been hit hard by a hammer.

"Number 23 of the Eagles, Will Treaty on the run," the commentator repeated. "Tackled by number 28 of the Knights, Sean Ferris!" Will pushed himself painfully back onto his feet. His knee throbbed under his weight; Will ran back the huddle, biting his mouthpiece to ignore the pain in his leg. Halt stood waiting for him examining Will's demeanor. He stood awkwardly; Halt knew that Will had been hurt. He discarded it; Will would get up from being hit by a speeding car to impress Alyss.

"I 20 kickout," Halt said. "I 20 kickout on go, on go ready break!" Will ran painfully to his spot behind Halt. This was a passing play, but Will had to become a blocker. With his leg in this state, he was absolutely useless.

"Down, 180,180 set go!" Halt growled. He faked a run to Will who sprinted up the middle and engaged the oncoming linebacker. Will's knee felt like jell-o; he was no match for this brutal monster who sent him skittering towards the side. His heart sank as he watched the linebacker sprinted towards Halt. Surprisingly, Halt had a few tricks up his sleeve. He whipped around the diving linebacker and lobbed the ball into the air, reminiscent of the Miller quarterback. Will sat up painfully and saw the corner and Malcolm racing to the ball, trying to judge where it was to land. To Will's amazement, Malcolm reached it first. He leapt up like a ballerina and snatched the ball away from the invisible hands that carried it through the air. He dodged the corner and the massive safety that tried to maim Will. He stopped in the end zone and dropped the ball.

"Touchdown Meadow Ridge!" the commentator announced brightly. The home section of the stadium erupted in another wave of cheers. Halt helped Will to his feet and celebrated meekly, aiding Will to return to the sideline. Coach Duncan regarded Will and Halt and sat Will down on the bench.

"What happened?" he asked frantically. Malcolm and Crowley made their way over beside Halt. He squeezed Will's knee who screamed out in agony. Will thought of Alyss who had paid her way to see him play, to see him score like only an NFL running back could. He thought of how weak he was appearing to her and to the rest of the spectators. Will waved the coach away and stood painfully back to his feet.

"I'll be fine!" he muttered through gritted teeth. A loud kick emanated from their end of the field. The ball soared into Knight's territory. Will staggered slightly, trying to ignore the pain in his knee and see what was going on in the game. Yes, they were already ahead by fourteen points, but it was only the second quarter. Miller was more than capable of coming back and stealing the win. But as long as their defense remained solid, they might be able to hold onto this lead. Will observed as George was plowed unexpectedly from the side unlike Horace who plowed through a blocker as if he weighed next to nothing. He then reached the point that he wanted; face to face with the ball carrier. He leveled himself, dancing in front of the carrier, allowing him no space to run. He tried to fake a run to the left and go outside of Horace, but Horace had known that maneuver all too well. Horace drove him down, nearly denting the ground. The rest of the defense clamored about, strapping on their helmets and making their way onto the field. They drew strength from Horace's success; they drew strength from Horace's aggressiveness. Horace was their leader, their general in other words. He could hold them together regardless of how close the offense was to scoring. Coach Chubbs called out a play to Horace. Horace's loud growls could be heard from the top most seats of the stadium as the huddle broke and made their way to the line of scrimmage. Miller met them, a renewed sense of confidence of which source was unknown. The defensive and offense lines crouched down, staring murderously at one another. George mimicked the receiver across from him while Horace and the linebackers squatted down, watching from behind the defensive line.

"Down! Wide 80, wide 80, set go!" The Miller quarterback called. He faked a run to the running back. Horace did not take the bait this time. He swatted the running back aside, sending him stumbling forward onto his stomach. Horace rampaged up the middle, hoping, praying to stop the quarterback's opportunity to throw. Unfortunately, he was just a step too late. The ball escaped the quarterback's fingers just out of Horace's reach. The ball spiraled through the air towards the receiver of which George was to cover. Will's heart soared; he knew that George was going to shatter this play in a spot that Miller was so desperately desire. Startlingly, he felt a hand in his face mask, shoving him down. He gazed upward, watching the receiver take the ball into his hands and sprint the final twenty yards. George raised his arms in disbelief at the referee just as Coach Duncan was, expecting a flag to be thrown. Will saw the blatant double penalty; he wondered himself why the referees would ignore something that was so serious and so obvious.

"Come on!" George yelled frustrated at the referee who did not dare hurl his flag at the ground. The stands booed at the referee's discount.

"Touchdown Miller!" the commentator boomed, a hint of reluctance clear in his voice. It was the visiting section's turn to cheer. They made their voices heard, like they were trying to sound as loud as the home section. Miller's kicking unit punted the ball through the uprights, adding an extra point to their total. "The extra point is good!" Will's heart sank. So much for a solid defense the rest of the game. After that play, George might just fall apart or maybe grow reckless. Will strapped on his helmet and ran painfully after Halt and Malcolm onto the field. He jumped about, trying to push the pain out of his leg. Miller's kicker heaved the ball down the field with an echoing kick. The ball soared to Will's side of the field. In a split second, Will's mind had been sent to another world, a world where there was no pain, no injured knees. A world where only the fittest would survive. Will jumped into the air as he were standing on springs and felt the ball soar into his grasp. Will came down and took off like a freshly shot bullet. He dodged desperate defenders; he felt as if he no longer had control of his feet. He must have picked up fifty yards easily. He could see the end zone, at least forty yards away. A renewed sense of pride filled his chest, but had quickly faded. What Will did not expect was what had hit him from behind. He felt a brawny body drive itself into the back of his knee. His right leg bent from the unexpected hit and Will felt himself turned over on his stomach, covering the ball as if it were a baby endangered. Multiple padded bodies piled themselves on top of Will, trying to dislodge the ball. Whistles were blowing from every direction. Will felt the pressure on his back slowly relieve as Miller's football players were removed. He saw a yellow flag on the ground next to him.

"Kick by number 18 of the Knights, Martin Bartell. Returned for a gain of fifty for the Eagles by number 23, Will Treaty!" the commentator called. "Flag on the play against the kicking team!" Boos from the visiting side of the stadium could be heard. Will no longer felt his knee. It felt as if he didn't have a knee. It was an effort trying to get back to his feet on his own, an even greater effort trying to stand. The referees discussed at the fifty yard line for a few minutes and then the head turned around to face the commentator's box.

"Personal Foul: Unnecessary Roughness, number 18 of the kicking team, fifteen yard penalty, first down!" the referee announced. Will could hear the cheering from the home section of the stadium, unlike the displeasure of the visiting team. He limped painfully to the huddle where Halt was listening to the call from Coach Duncan. He turned back to the awaiting offense.

"I 20 kickout reverse!" he growled emphatically. "I 20 kickout reverse, on two, ready, break!" Will felt thankful for that call; it would give him a few seconds to rest. Penalties were certainly an excellent weapon against Miller if they wanted any chance to defeat them. Will crouched down, watching Horace reach underneath the center, awaiting the snap.

"Down! 180…180 set go!" he barked. The offense did not dare move an inch, or at least on their own. Nearly the entire defensive line had grown overexcited and jumped, knocking a couple lineman backwards. Whistles were blowing from every direction and flags were soaring through the air. The referee picked up the ball and moved the ball five yards forward. Miller's defense was probably at its breaking point where their tempers were not ones to be tested.

"Flag on the play against the defense!" the commentator boomed through the microphone. The referee walked to middle of the field and turned to face the spectators.

"Offsides: #57 of the defense, five yard penalty, remains first down!" the referee announced. The sound of Miller's coaches screaming 'watch the ball!' could probably be heard from the home section of the stadium. Halt recalled the offense, listening for the call.

"I 20 kickout reverse!" he repeated. Will's heart sank. He would have to run in the direction of the massive safety. "I 20 kickout reverse, on go, on go, ready break!" The offense met the defense on the line, squatting down into their positions. Will crouched down, ready to take the ball. Halt reached down, awaiting the snap.

"Down! 180…180 set go!" Will watched horrified as the ball slipped from Halt's grasp. The entire offensive line dove forward, trying to surprise the defense for Halt to secure the ball. The whistle blew from behind them. Will was beginning not to like their chances. Miller was starting to have a mental effect on them. Pretty soon, they would be able to bend it to their advantage. Will walked back to the huddle, unbelieving of what had just taken place. Coach Duncan told Halt to forget about it and called the next play to him. The guilt had not yet faded from his face. Will heard a new breath next to him. He turned and saw the tall form of Horace standing next to him. His heart rejoiced at the sight of this behemoth; Horace was a full back at rare times, but he was the best that they had. Apparently, this was a desperate enough time that they had called for him. Halt knew exactly what to call.

"I 20 bootleg," Halt informed them. "I 20 bootleg, on go, on go, ready break!" Horace crouched down in front of Will and behind Halt. The entire stadium went silent, as if this sight had stolen their breaths away.

"Down! 180...180 set go!" Halt growled. This time, he received the snap and faked the run to Horace, shoving the ball into Will's grasp instead. Will ran behind Horace's cover, watching him run through the middle linebacker as if he were made of paper. Will saw the first down marker out of the corner of his eye. He focused his attention ahead of him. Horace and Will faced the two safeties. Horace engaged the smaller of the two, leaving Will to dance with the massive one. Will darted off to one side, nearly throwing off his balance. Unfortunately, the safety dove at caught Will in the already agonized knee. Will fell forward once again; his knee was throbbing heavily; each throb was slightly more painful than the last. Will bit his lip in an attempt to keep from screaming out.

"Number 23 of the Eagles, Will Treaty on the run!" the commentator announced. "Tackled by number 28 of the defense, Sean Ferris!" Will extended his knee and almost immediately let out a lacerated wail. He rolled himself over and pushed himself painfully back to his feet. He limped back the huddle, ignoring the looks the rest of the offense was giving him. Doubts were running through Horace's and Halt's minds; maybe this wouldn't be the year they would defeat Miller. Coach Duncan conversed with Coach Arald and called out a play to Halt.

"I 40 bootleg," he told them, a slight growl in his tone. "I 40 bootleg on go, on go, ready break!" Paroxysm shot through Will's leg as he crouched down; Will discarded it as he thought of Alyss in the stands.

"Down! 180…180 set go!" Halt growled, taking the ball from the center. He shoved the ball into Horace's grasp. Will ran behind Horace, his head whipping around rapidly, hoping that no one would blind side him. Horace pitched the ball backwards towards Will. The ball bobbled in his arms when opportunity presented itself to the middle linebacker, who drove his body into Will's thigh. Will watched helplessly as the ball soared out of reach. By some miracle, the ball had rolled just inside the sidelines. Will heaved a breath of relief and pain. He pulled himself back to his feet and staggered slightly. The referee picked up the ball and placed it on Miller's 40 yard line.

"Number 51 of the Eagles, Horace Altman on the run, pitched back to number 23 Will Treaty for a gain of twenty!" the commentator announced. "Tackled by number 52 Eric Svengal of the Knights!" But even with Horace at full back, it would take time, time that they didn't have to reach the end zone. Coach Duncan yelled a play out to Halt. Will could see desperation building inside him. This was almost like a stepping stone on the road to a state championship.

"I 80 reverse!" he growled. "I 80 reverse on go, on go ready break!" Will gulped at the sound of the play. He would get the opportunity to shine in front of Alyss, but with the state his knee was in, it would be more like an opportunity to play the fool. Nevertheless, Will crouched down behind Halt.

"Down! 180…180 set go!" Halt bellowed, taking the snap. He pitched the ball out to Will who staggered slightly in his bound. He slowly forgot about the searing pain in his leg as he sprinted down the sideline. He dodged the outside linebacker and the smaller safety and sprinted into the end zone.

"TOUCHDOWN EAGLES!" the commentator boomed over the screaming crowd. It felt as if the pain had magically subsided as Will made his way back over to the bench. He pointed off in Alyss' direction just as George had done with Ashley. He was close enough to the stands that he could see her perfect smile project itself in his direction. He felt clops on his back as he made his way over to the water cooler. Horace hugged him tightly; Halt patted Will on the shoulder. The feeling of cold water splashing over their heated, sweat drenched faces was as if someone had removed the heavy burdens they were carrying. Will snuck a look back at Alyss who was staring at him admirably. Crowley's thunderous kick emanated from the end zone and the stands erupted in another wave of excitement. The scoreboard now read 28 – 14 Eagles. Crowley, Horace, and George strapped their helmets back on and sprinted back onto the field. Halt whipped his wet hair around, spraying Will.

"So when are you going to ask her?" he asked Will. Will regarded him.

"Ask who?" he asked. Halt shot him a look of disbelief.

"This is the girl you've liked since we were freshman and you ask who?" Halt scolded.

"Oh! Well, I uh," Will began. He hadn't really thought about since the game against Miller had drawn nearer. Halt slapped a hand over his face in disbelief.

"You don't know?" he blurted out. Will regarded, a strange expression visible on his face.

"Why are you worried about me?" he asked. "You're against me in this thing!" Halt sighed deeply. It looked as if the next thing he said was paining him.

"Will to be honest, as we spent more time together, I kind of saw how stupid I was being," Halt began. A joke pieced itself together in Will's head, one that Will found it too hard to resist.

"You're not going to tell me you like me are you?" he asked him, a broad grin spreading on his face. Halt glared at him, but amusement slowly crept onto his face.

"Shut up," he muttered. "Look, I don't care about beating you anymore. You're my friend and I want you to be happy." Will couldn't believe what he was hearing. Halt had given in, he was letting Will have Alyss.

"Wow thanks!" Will thanked appreciatively.

"Which brings us back to my original question," Halt went on. "When are you going to ask her?" Will shrugged. He thought of Alyss' pool party. The fact that he didn't have a gift for her summoned guilt into his chest. But then again…

"Well, her birthday is tomorrow and she invited me and my friends," Will pointed out. He looked at Halt. There was no pleading or hopeful look upon his face, but Will saw it only fit that he repay Halt by asking him to come. "Why don't you come with us tomorrow?" Halt pondered on it and shrugged.

"Eh, why not?" Halt accepted, appreciation forming in his face.

"Hey, would it be crazy if I told her on tomorrow?" Will asked curiously. Halt pursed his lips and shook his head. Halt was similar, if not, just like Will when it came to stealing the hearts of girls.

"Of course not!" he replied. "In fact, it will probably be sweet to her if you told her tomorrow anyways." Will smiled at his friend and clapped on the back. Crowley's kick echoed throughout the stadium like a gun shot. The kicking unit followed as the ball soared through the air like a bird and into the awaiting arms of the receiver. They had obviously devised a new strategy, one that was working very well. Horace was blocked the massive safety and what looked to be their middle linebacker while George had entangled himself amongst the arms of the nose guard. The runner darted through the gaps in between the battling players and into the end zone. The visiting section sounded like a bomb that had just exploded. The receiving team celebrated with one another, diving on top of the runner as they brought their score up an extra six.

"TOUCHDOWN KNIGHTS!" the commentator boomed. The kicking unit brought about the same success, driving an extra point onto the board through the uprights. Will's spirits soared as the horn sounded, signaling the end of the first half. The scoreboard read 28 – 21 Eagles. Horace and Will led the team back through the gate into the locker room. The Eagles' spectators would not dare silence their cheers; the commentator's voice was drowned out by their volume.

"That's the end of the first half with Miller at 21, Meadow Ridge at 28. Please visit the concession stand for some pizza and other available delicacies while watching the halftime show presented by the cheerleaders!" the commentator announced. Enthusiastic feminine yells could be heard on both sides of the field; Will noticed Alyss rushing over to the rail to get a last glimpse of him before he went into the locker room. He looked up at her and directed a wave. Alyss' cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as she waved back him. Horace regarded him and shoved him slightly. Will's heart never felt so light in his life; a victory over Miller and being with Alyss would be a fantasy he never thought would be fulfilled.

"Tell her you clueless ballerina!" Horace mused. Will felt his mouth twist in amusement. Will pulled open the locker room door with vigor, leaving himself to his motivational head banging music and his private, fantasies he wished to turn to reality.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_Lol, I've read over the reviews and some of you must have missed the 'first half' segment of Chapter 6. They still have a whole other half! But not this Chapter, they're in the locker room the whole time. Ha! I do not own Ranger's Apprentice and I never will._

Will sat himself painfully down at his locker, retrieving his IPod from within. He massaged his knee gently whilst shoving the headphones into his ears, hoping to drown any thoughts that may cross his mind in the explosive, cruel, but motivating guitars. He chose the song _Indestructible_ by _Disturbed _and leaned his head backwards to where the back of his head rested on the top of his locker. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, as if there were some large bug that he would like to squash taunting him. The lyrics replaced whatever thought of pain, whatever wrongdoing that had been done unto him thus far.

_Another mission, the powers have called me away_

_Another time to carry the colors again_

_My motivation, an oath I've sworn to defend_

_To win the honor of coming back home again_

Thoughts of Alyss began to creep into Will's mind; thoughts of her beauty, her intelligence, her kindness, began to overcome his sense of focus. He recalled her most recent smile; it was the most gorgeous as he had ever seen it. Rapturous, there was no other girl granted with her beauty. It was too unbelievable of a girl gifted with her sense of grace would have the heart to watch him get knocked off his feet repeatedly. Will began cursing himself in the back of his mind for allowing her to see how weak he had become. His knee continued to throb despite Will's efforts to mollify the pain. She must not love him anymore; he was showing her that he could not deal with a minor discomfort. He bent his knee backwards, nearly slicing his tongue in half in an attempt to quiet his agonized screams. The door of the locker room opened and Coach Duncan appeared from around the corner. He gestured for Will to follow. Will forced himself onto his feet; his leg began swaying terribly beneath him. Those around him noticed and flashed him concerned glances. Will pretended not to have paid any attention and limped with great effort after Coach Duncan. He pushed the door open and met him outside in the hallway. Coach Duncan's eyes dropped their gaze to Will's quivering knee; he returned back to Will's grimacing face.

"Will, are you hurt?" he asked calmly. Will's first instinct was to lie just as he was taught when it came to physical anguish. However, Coach Duncan knew Will and knew when he was lying; he could identify his tell-tale signs faster than anyone, except for Horace and George. Will took out a headphone, but said nothing. Instead, he shook his head. Coach Duncan raised an eyebrow inquiringly. Will had been taught to play through pain, serious pain; pain that most men would crumble in defeat from. He knew that Will would rather die than stop at his limits. Miller was the team that had hurt Will the previous year, nearly removing him from the season. Horace and George had worked twice as hard trying to keep the scores down and buy Halt and the wounded offense some time to score. Coach Duncan noticed the glint in Will's eye. It was a mixed glint, one filled with both adoration and shame. What Will was feeling shameful about was unknown, but certainly seemed undeserving of the expression on his face. The lyrics of the song continued to ring in Will's ears.

_No explanation will matter after we begin_

_Unlock the dark destroyer that's buried within_

_My true vocation and now my unfortunate friend_

_You will discover a war you are unable to win_

Will wished with all of his heart that the final words had said something other than 'a war you are unable to win'. His knee gave another agonizing spasm; Will staggered slightly and shifted to a position that seemed much easier to manage. Coach Duncan's eyes darted downwards once again and fixed themselves back onto Will's face.

"Will, I'm going to ask you again," he warned. "Are you hurt?" Will shook his head once again, grinding his teeth to keep from yelling out. Coach Duncan's lower lip curled; Will was displaying an admirable surplus of heart, but his wretched pride would befall the team and they would be faced with yet another loss against Miller.

"Honestly, Coach, I'm…f-fine!" he lied. Pain was interfering with his ability to speak, faltering his words and breaking his voice.

"Then why is your knee trembling?" he asked. His tone resembled that of a detective interrogating a suspect, just eager to hear what explanation Will reserved for this moment. Will sighed, defeated. Coach Duncan emitted a victorious smirk, but regarded Will's still quivering leg.

"They h-hit m-me in th-the leg r-r-repeatedly!" Will faltered, trying to speak and subdue the rising paroxysm simultaneously. Coach Duncan held out his hands, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded. "We could have gotten some ice for you earlier!" Will shrugged. Coach Duncan then evoked the glint of adoration in Will's eyes. Why else would a Football player refuse any medical attention and play injured?

"There's a girl in the stands isn't there?" Coach Duncan guessed. If this were Horace instead of his Head Coach, this would have been a perfect opportunity for Will to crack a joke. Instead Will nodded, wincing slightly. Coach Duncan nodded. "Will, don't let your mind wander to her. I'm not saying you can't have relationship, I'm just saying that this is the wrong time to think about her." Will wished it were that simple. He had been in love with Alyss for two long, continuous years, while fighting off preying girls. Evanlyn, who Will had claimed to love when he was in seventh grade, had not even invoked this much passion within his heart. Even with her, he felt that he had nothing to fight for. But with Alyss, he now felt he had something to prove; like his life depended on standing out. But Meadow Ridge was playing Miller! This was a vicious, merciless team who would not hesitate to mutilate those who dare stand across from them.

"Yes coach," Will sighed, defeated. The ability to talk was masked by the searing pain in his knee. He staggered slightly, hoping that it would remain undetected by Coach Duncan, whose gaze darted downwards, and then back to Will's eyes. His expression showed that he was debating, whether or not to sit Will on the bench for the remainder of the match. Even a coach's pride must be named second to the wellbeing of a player, especially one that they are close to.

"Will, are you sure you can continue?" he asked, hoping for an assuring response. Will's expression winced as the leg let out another painful throb. He bit his tongue and nodded. Coach Duncan studied him for a few seconds, as if he were a large textbook and then patted him on the shoulder. Will replaced his headphone in his ear and grasped the lyrics of the song once again.

_Indestructible, determination that is incorruptible_

_From the other side, a terror to behold_

_Annihilation will be unavoidable_

_Every broken enemy will know_

_That their opponent had to be invincible_

_Take a last look while you're alive_

_I am indestructible,_

_Master of Mind!_

Will's mind soaked them in, like an absorbent sponge. He clenched his teeth, using the words to suppress the agony in his knee. It was still wobbling with no intent of stopping. He tossed his head, teaching himself that he was in control and not the arising pain. Yet still, his knee made it onerous to walk. He resembled a baby taking its first steps as he made his way back to his locker. Whispers, probably of him, began to issue, and glances were projected from every known direction. He sat down next to Halt, massaging his knee lightly. Halt regarded him paused his song, and took out his headphones. He tapped Will lightly to draw his attention and requested he do the same. Will was disappointed; if there was any band that could relieve his knee's anguish like a prescription pain reliever, it was Disturbed. He stared at Halt, curious of what he might say. For a few seconds, Halt said nothing, as if his mouth had been glued shut. Awkwardness filled the small space between their legs; Will's mind was overtaken by the wounded screams of his leg. Of course, with Halt wanting to talk to him, but saying nothing, Will would not be able to sedate himself with music. Finally, Halt broke the untimely silence.

"So, what did Coach Duncan want to talk to you about?" he asked. His tone hinted more of interrogation than curiosity. Will felt his cheeks begin to burn; he had no desire to tell Halt that Coach Duncan had discussed his injury.

"He wanted to go over tactics," he lied. "You know, ways to capitalize when Miller slips up." He felt his eyes droop, his chest felt heavy and his smile had forced itself into a frown of guilt. There was no way to hide his penitence. As expected, Halt seized his emotion as if were money.

"Nice," he said plainly. "Tell me what you were really talking about." Will huffed. His knee gave another agonizing throb, one that had forced Will to scream out. Those around him casted their attentions onto him who began massaging his knee feverishly. Halt cocked his head sideways, reminiscent of a confused dog.

"Coach Duncan noticed me limping around," Will began. Halt raised his eyebrows; his suspicions were true. He still said nothing, awaiting Will to finish his tale. "He asked if I was hurt and I told him that they had struck my knee repeatedly. And uh…." He whipped his head around, as if he were worried that someone was eavesdropping.

"He knows she's in the stands." Halt raised his eyebrows, but out of surprise, not of suspicion. He had always suspected that Coach Duncan might be psychic, but he never believed he was.

"Alyss?" Will stared at him in disbelief. Halt raised his hands, coaxing Will to continue.

"He told me not to let my mind wander, to forget that she's even there," Will said, his speech becoming slower, as if the words pained him as they escaped his lips. Halt nodded comprehensively.

"Ah…isn't amazing the affects the presence of one's crush has on us?" Halt asked, staring up at the ceiling dreamily, as if he stargazing. Will stared at him, dumbstruck. He had no clue what Halt was hinting.

"What are you talking about?" Will asked him. Halt sighed; he wished that Will had left this alone. He definitely had no desire to comment on Will's recall.

"I hate to be against you Will," he began. It was Will's turn to raise his eyebrows. Halt waved this sight away. "You know what I mean!"

"I don't think you do!" Will began, his face drawing heat.

"Will, I hated to be the one to say this, but I kind of agree with Coach Duncan," Halt confessed. Will opened his mouth, but could not find words to form. His temper was boiling within his chest; there was no music to sedate his anger, only to fuel it.

"Do you?" he remarked coldly.

"Yes I do!" Halt shot back. "Will, you're an amazing running back! I would be shocked to see that scouts were not already looking at you. But you have to consider the condition of your knee!" Will rolled his eyes, annoyed with Halt's contradictions.

"I'm sure it's just a bruise," Will dismissed. Halt shook his head, exhausted of the many times before Will had dismissed injuries. "That's what it normally is!" Halt shot him a look of disbelief.

"'It's just a bruise', your knee is throbbing like the throat of a bullfrog!" Halt argued. "That's one hell of a bruise if it is one!" Will groaned; his tolerance levels were low from all the pressure piled onto his shoulders. Halt knows of this, yet he still continues to test his temper.

"So what?" Will excused. "I'm not going to lie down just because a few painful twinges!" Halt let out an agitated moan; every eye in the locker room was now fixed upon them.

"You're limping!" Halt fired back. "You can barely stand! I've watched your knee shake uncontrollably! Don't tell me it's just a few painful twinges!" Will pulled himself painfully to his feet, trying to show some sort of dominance. But in this image, the only appearance he would project was his lameness. Halt rose to his feet, frustration was burning in his eyes.

"I'm fine!" Will fought.

"Says the guy who is leaning on the lockers for support!" Halt shot back. "If you play the next half, you will be taking a risk that the entire school will not forgive!" Will waved his statement aside as if it were an object that Halt wanted Will to see.

"No other running back knows the plays like I do!" Will pointed out in a rather aggressive tone. "If I sit out, then I'll still be risking the game!"

"If you sit out, then people won't trash you for extending our losing streak another year!" Halt indicated. Will wanted to strike at him, to assuage the boiling anger.

"I would rather fight and lose than watch from the sidelines!" Will refused. Halt's lower lip curled; this was a sign that Halt was choleric, that his temper was rising.

"You're only doing this because Alyss is in the stands!" Halt growled. Will had no memory of how he felt at that particular moment, just the recollection of Will lunging at Halt, his fist inches from his face. The only thing that stopped him was Horace's electric reactions. Will's fist was locked in his iron grip, his body felt awkward against Horace's boulder like shoulder. He pushed Will away and eased his grip. Will detached his wrist and held it against his chest. Halt and Will were breathing angrily, brutal glints clearly visible in their eyes. The pain in his knee did not possess as much strength as it had before. The hunger to defeat Miller was overwhelming. The adoration, the love he had for Alyss had taken control of his mind. There was no other like her and if it meant mutilating his body to be with her, he would do it.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Will's fury was burning, bubbling through his veins. To him, it was unbelievable Halt had the nerve to criticize his pride. Yes, Will admitted Halt to be partially correct of trying to appear indestructible, but not entirely for his reasoning. Alyss played role of Will's strife; under normal circumstances, Will would have allowed the coach to examine the dame done to his knee. However, Alyss' presence had seized control of his mind. Pain could not reveal itself before her, it was forbidden. Will not only hungered for the victory over Mill, but desired Alyss' heart. Appearing weak was not an option. Coach Duncan had also said there was no running back to match his talent. If he sat out, Meadow Ridge may experience another bitter loss to Miller. He dressed in silence, ignoring the whispers in the background and prying eyes. He strapped Horace's shoulder pads and slumped down in his locker, staring at the floor angrily, as if it had offended him somehow. Horace sat below, facing Will. It looked as if he wanted to say something, hopefully a few assuring words. Will's eyes fixed their gaze onto Horace. Horace studied his face; Will's expression was testing, warning him to choose his words carefully. After a few minutes of pondering, Horace had finally spoken up.

"Halt is right you know." Will's eyes flashed in agitated manner. His low tolerance had dropped to none whatsoever. He did not want to hear anything that spoke of Halt's accuracy. Will breathed, sedating the boiling anger in his chest, ignoring the sudden throb his knee had given. Horace might have been his best friend, but even Horace's level of toleration had limits.

"How so?" Will muttered, trying to make his anger undetectable. Horace debated, wondering how harmful this conversation could become.

"Well, with you in this state." He waved his hand up and down Will's leg, implicating his maimed knee. "This mounts more pressure on us because we'll have to choose plays with much more caution." Will groaned.

"Oh can it, Horace!" Will snapped. "I am not jeopardizing any chance we have of defeating Miller. If I sit out, then our chances of winning will be in danger!" Horace stared blankly. He wished Will would see reason. His next words were spoken in a low tone, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

"An injured running back cannot keep ground like an uninjured second string player." Will shot Horace a disdainful glare. Red hot rage surged through his bloodstream, pulling him to his feet. Horace stood unfazed. He towered over Will and was much more brawn. Will's knee gave a sudden shudder, nearly pulling him off balance. Still, Will did not back down from the menacing monster that was the captain of the defense.

"I will not risk this victory because somebody!" He jabbed a finger into Horace's barrel chest. "By the likes of you who wants me to switch to a spectator's point of view!" In a split second, a sudden shove had thrown the back of Will's head into a wooden locker. The sound of bells ringing filled his ears and eyesight went foggy. Will shook his head and despite the state of his leg, leapt at Horace. Horace, who was startled by Will's unannounced retaliation, fell onto his back. Multiple pairs of arms were attempting to wrestle Will off of Horace. Will's knee had chosen this moment to give out. He felt maybe five or six bodies topple over onto him. Horace scrambled to his feet, and began pulling people off of Will. Will pulled himself painfully back onto his feet, aiming a hostile stare at Horace. Many of whom that observed the violent outbreak, expected Horace to charge at Will. Yet, Horace had stood frozen, breathing like a provoked animal. George took it upon himself to contain the distance between the two. Funny enough, he was much more petite than Will and Horace. Horace turned his back away to retrieve his helmet. Will imitated his action and shoved his headphones into his ears. George had not yet left his side. He gazed at Will, as if silently requesting something. Will removed a headphone and stared back at George warningly. Instead of lecturing him like Horace and Halt had, George patted Will on the shoulder.

"Forget about them," George told him. "They are right though; forget about Alyss; if you're in pain, its okay. You did as much as you could for the team." Will nodded apprehensively; he consulted his IPod for a song to recreate his mood. He chose _Issues _by _Escape the Fate_. He sat back against the locker, his mind hanging on every lyric of the song.

_This is the death of me_

_I feel it constantly_

_Just like an enemy_

_That wants to see me bleed_

_So I try to be silent_

_But my words they explode like hand grenades_

_I've just got to stay calm_

_Before I let this time bomb blow up in my face_

Will felt that it was too late; the time bomb had already blown up in his face. The words might not have been inspirational, but the roar of the electric guitars surely was. He repeated George's words in the back of his mind, trying to make some sort of sense out of them.

_If you're in pain, it's okay. You did as much as you could for the team. _Maybe he should sit out for the second half. He had already scored two touchdowns and Malcolm was obviously more than capable at catching 'Peyton Manning-like' passes from Halt. Surely, Horace and George would be able to maintain this defense for the remainder of the game. They had done it before against other teams. However, Miller was not like other teams. Unlike other teams, whose team consists of very few players with bodies composed of steel, nearly Miller's entire roster looked as if they overdosed heavily on steroids. Even with this detail in mind, Will still had to consider the score. It wasn't okay that he was in pain; Miller was behind only by seven points and if the referees refused to call personal fouls, like the blatant pass interference and face mask penalty, then it wouldn't matter. Will thought assuredly that it wouldn't take Miller long to seize the lead should this pattern keep up. Inevitably, and probably most importantly, if Will showed that he was suffering, Alyss would develop doubts of her interest in him. According to Will's knowledge, no girl desired a guy who would lie down, defeated because he couldn't push through a few aches. Will banished these demoralizing thoughts and returned his focus to the lyrics of the song.

_These issues pin me to the floor_

_These issues are my overlord_

_I feel so dominated_

_These issues, they choke me like a noose_

So much for motivation, Will thought bitterly. He scanned through his playlist and selected _This Means War _by _Nickelback_.

_Walking to the ring for a battle that you can't win_

_Swing as hard as you can swing_

_It will still mean nothing_

_Should have seen it coming, it had to happen some time_

_But you went and brought a knife to an all out gun fight_

_And the only thing to save_

_Is the banner that you wave_

_To be wrapped around your grave_

He hoped it were like this. However, Miller's attitude is more like bringing a nuclear bomb to a gun fight. Talent was what had awarded them two state championships the past two years. Will bet that if they were willing to share, Miller would have enough talent to improve every team in the county, maybe even the region. Meadow Ridge truthfully, was their only competition. The game between two is almost as famed as the Super Bowl. Other students from 'not so-talented' teams gathered just to experience the passion, the deep hungering sensation to vanquish their foe that both teams possessed. However, no one from Meadow Ridge desired the precious victory as much as Will did. The previous year was the closes Meadow Ridge had ever come to defeating Miller. They had been ahead 28 – 25 with Meadow Ridge at the edge of ceasing their losses to Miller. The large safety had nearly ended Will's high school football career, breaking his leg in two places and fractured in another location. In the process, Will had fumbled two yards away from the end zone. Their smaller safety had seized the opportunity around the laces of the football and sprinted ninety-five yards back for a touchdown. It was truly a stolen victory. This year was different, it just had to be! Alyss, the only girl whose person had drawn Will Treaty to his knees, was in the stands. It was unheard of for a girl like her, top of the class, not so popular, sort of awkward girl, to attract to clutch the heartstrings of Will Treaty, football champion of Brooks County, while he imitated her actions. He never felt more empowered than this night when Alyss took to the view of a spectator, cheering him, willing his spirit onward. Halt was kind of his side, and would never be at fault for the furniture of any play. Horace may be slightly more aggressive than needed, would lead the defense to nothing less than success.

_You've gone too far!_

_Who do you think you are?_

_Is this what you came for?_

_Well this means war!_

_Get up!_

Coach Duncan had chosen this moment to lead them back onto the field. Will hurriedly threw his IPod back into his locker and strapped on his helmet. They marched onto the field, the sound of cleats hitting the concrete echoed as one sound. The only thing louder was the wave of cheers emanating from the 'home' section of the stadium. Miller was already gathered around their bench. Will couldn't help but feel sloppy. It felt unnatural for the visiting team to seem more prepared than the home team. Miller stared hatefully across at their adversaries.

"Kick return!" Coach Arald, the special teams coach, called. Will and Malcolm led the returning unit onto the field. He could feel Malcolm's worrisome glance upon him. He bent his knee backwards and forwards, repeating this action to appear as if he were fine. But he was far from fine. With each movement, the pain had intensified, more difficult to resist screaming out. Will discarded it, staring down at Miller's kicking team.

"Welcome to the second half with Meadow Ridge leading Miller 28 – 21," the commentator began, his voice bouncing off every obstruction in the stadium. "Meadow Ridge is awaiting the kick from Miller." Moments later, Miller's kicker number 18, heaved the ball down the field in Will's direction. The moment was crystal clear, too clear to ignore. The ball fell ever so closer to Will; thoughts raced chaotically through his mind, looking for a topic to steal his attention away from his mutilated knee. He attempted to spring upwards, but his knee gave in and collapsed under him. He lay sprawled on his back; embarrassment had filled his insides. His hand shot upwards to bat the ball into the end zone. Instead, the ball bounced off the side of his hand and was sent bounding up the two yard line. Will threw himself onto the ball pressing it tight to his chest. Players from teams piled on; Miller was hoping to dislodge it from his desperate grasp. Will felt the ball wiggle slightly. He prayed silently for a whistle to sound before the mounting weight could crush him. Multiple whistles rang noisily as the referees paused to pull players away from the massive dog pile. Finally, they uncovered Will, who was gasping from his time at the bottom. Malcolm helped Will to his feet who limped painfully to the offensive huddle. Halt was staring at him reproachfully, as if he thought Will had purposely pulled that stunt.

"Kick of sixty yards by number 18 of the Knights, Martin Bartell. Returned by number 23 Will Treaty for no gain!" the commentator called. This was the only time that Will wished for the commentator to remain silent. He wished that there was no one, not even Alyss, in the bleachers to see his idiotic blunder. Halt turned away to hear the call from Coach Duncan. Will glanced up into the stands, his eyes falling upon the spot where Alyss sat with her two friends, laughing and smiling. Her smile, oh gosh her smile...it was like a drug that Will was high on. The feeling of seeing it was treasured; there was nothing that was sweeter than that sight. Will felt his mouth twist itself in adoration, but vanished instantly. Embarrassment came over him, he coveted the play that he should have made instead of the antic had pulled moments before. Halt returned the huddle, ignoring Will's presence as if he wasn't there. Will shifted painfully, hoping his manner would remain undetected. Malcolm surprisingly was the only one who noticed this. He clapped Will on the back reassuringly. This would have been appropriate if the entire play had blown up, but the return had failed thanks to Will's injury. Kind of hard to feel motivated when a play had failed that terribly.

"I 20 bootleg," Halt announced in a low whisper. "I 20 bootleg on go, on go, ready break!" Will staggered to his position behind Halt. Crouching down into his stance seemed near impossible, his knees shuddered fitfully. Halt took his sweet time looking up and down the line of scrimmage, forcing Will to endure seconds of unbearable agony. It felt as if his knee was tearing apart at the joint. Finally, Halt reached beneath the center, awaiting the snap.

"Down! 180…180, set go!" he bellowed, taking the ball into his grasp. He faked handing it to Will and ran off to the side, searching desperately for an open receiver. What Will did not expect was a blitzing middle linebacker. A towering wall smashed into him, sending Will skittering across the ground. He lay there, trying to gather his thoughts and apprehend what happened to him. A few seconds passed and Will heard a dreadful crack! This sound was mixed with Halt's grunt of pain, followed by the visiting section of the stadium erupting in a wave of cheers. Will looked over; the middle linebacker stood triumphant over Halt, staring down at him as if he were a meal. The rest of the defense clamored together, celebrating and sprinting back towards the sideline.

"Sacked by number 52 of the defense, Eric Svengal!" the commentator boomed. "Safety for Miller!" The visitors screamed in approval; they felt that they just might take yet another victorious year home with them. Will's heart sank to the point where he thought he would be dragging it across the ground. He felt no hope, no faith, and no love. They were within the endzone thanks to his asinine performance. Halt had been sacked within their own endzone and this was considered a safety. He watched guiltily as Miller's score increased to 23. In addition to the two points, Meadow Ridge was forced to kick to Miller. A couple lineman pulled Will to his feet, walking beside him as he limped to the sideline. He could feel Halt's glare in the back of his head. He wanted to turn around, to face Halt and repent for his mistake. But he knew if he did, a wave of solecism would wash over him, engulf him until he could no longer be dubbed the best running back in the state. He staggered to the bench and slumped down, ignoring the stares of his teammates and curious spectators. Malcolm walked to his side. He said nothing; instead he patted Will on the shoulder reassuringly. But Will certainly did not feel assured. Shame rang through his ears as Crowley's cleat emitted a thunderous kick. He picked up his head, watching Horace bulldoze over what looked like the middle linebacker and strike the ball carrier with so much force that Horace might have turned his lights out. Flags were thrown in every direction and Will couldn't help but agree with them. There was no need for that kind of brutality, no matter how angry you are. Whistles were screaming deafeningly as the referees guided Horace away. Miller's trainers rushed onto the field, hunched over the unconscious player. The massive safety, number 28, bolted towards an unaware Horace and dove at the back of Horace's thigh. More whistles sounded as the referees wrestled the safety back to the sidelines. Horace lay on the ground, yelling out in agony, clutching his thigh. Will saw both trainers rush to Horace's side, muttering unknown words as they examined him. Will averted his attention across the field, where the two trainers were aiding the ball carrier in walking back to their bench. His arms were draped over their necks. Will wouldn't be surprised Horace would be suspended for the rest of the game. But the wicked deed of number 28 was inexcusable and couldn't go unpunished. If it did, the GFL (A/N: I'm not sure what they call the league of Georgia Football, let me know if you do) office would be flooded with hundreds of inquiries just from this one game. There was no call for a cheap shot of that nature, especially since the play had long since been over. If Horace didn't get suspended, at least the safety would. Or Will hoped he would. He returned his gaze back onto Horace, who was waving the trainers away. He pushed himself onto his feet and exhibited a walk. He faltered slightly in his stride, but the trainers saw nothing worth too much concern.

"Flag on the play against both team!" the commentator announced. The stadium waited breathlessly as the referees conversed with one another. Finally, one of them walked to the middle of the field and looked up at the commentator's booth.

"Personal Foul: Unnecessary Roughness, number 51 on the kicking team, 15 yard penalty, first down!" the referee began. "Personal Foul: Unsportsman-like conduct, number 28 of the returning team, player is ejected from the game!" Will would have rejoiced, but the damage had already been done. His knee made it near impossible to even stand and was extremely trouble some even when Will was resting. Horace was now added to that list, but nowhere near as bad as Will. However, one more cheap shot like that and Horace may find himself either on the bench beside Will or in the back of an ambulance. Will could also guarantee that their offense did not possess the moral as they had when the game first began. With Horace hurt, the defense probably would not be as solid as they were before. Will sighed, preparing to feel the sting of another loss to Miller.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

George strapped on his helmet, leading the defense to Horace's aid. Horace favored his leg, not even attempting to mask his pain. He massaged it as he listened to Coach Chubb's call. Coach Duncan had named this moment appropriate to consult Will's condition. He beckoned the nearest trainer and requested a bag of ice. Ten seconds passed…twenty…thirty, the pain intensified with every throb. Off in the distance, he heard Horace break the huddle and make their way up to the line of scrimmage. Despite the lack of Will's attention, Coach Duncan followed through with his intentions. He found his grip just above Will's knee, squeezing ever so tighter.

"Does this hurt?" he asked. Will regained his attention and shook his head. He made a gesture indicating for the coach to pursue further south. His hand slid downwards a couple inches and squeezed as if he trying to crush an apple. Will winched; the pain was deafening and mind numbing. All thoughts in his head had been erased; his only focus was the searing pain erupting from his knee. Sadly, this was not the worst area. Will beckoned the coach further. His hand slipped another few inches and clamped his fingers between the joints in Will's knee. That was the breaking point of his silence. Will's mouth refused to stay shut; his agonized screams rang throughout the stadium. Coach Duncan snatched his hand away out of fear that Will would break it. His other hand extended hesitantly, clutching the bag of ice at the tips of his fingers. He lifted Will's pants leg and nervously placed the ice where the pain was most concentrated. Cold, soothing numbness engulfed his leg, banishing away his discomfort. Coach Duncan stood up and rubbed his hands, desperate for warmth. Will winced as he exerted great effort to adjust his leg.

"Th-thanks!" he faltered. His hand fell onto the ice pack to keep it established.

"You're welcome," Coach Duncan acknowledged. "Be sure to adjust it every couple of minutes." Will nodded as he watched the coach sink away into conversation Coach Chubbs. He looked up to see Miller's offensive line hunched over, exchanging murderous glares with the defensive line. Horace had altered his stance slightly; he wasn't squatting as low as he normally did. His weight positioned itself more on Horace's left leg than on his right. Miller's quarterback placed his hands beneath the center; his head revolved his attention from side to side to make sure his offensive line was positioned correctly. Will distinguished the movement of the quarterback's leg, gesturing for some sort of movement for the running back, who ran to the quarterback's opposite side.

"Crosser!" Horace called. The two outside linebackers swapped positions with one another and scooted a yard closer, as if to get a better observation.

"Down! Wide 80…wide 80, set go!" the quarterback roared, taking the snap. The running back shot through the gap to engage one of the outside linebackers. His intentions were not a complete failure. Within a few seconds he found himself on his back, but his target's advance had been delayed. Will switched his attention to the fleeing quarterback who was desperate to keep out of reach of Horace and the rest of his defense. He exchanged his glance down the field at George who was practically dancing with a receiver, praying that he could keep this pace until Horace was able to clasp the quarterback. Out of the corner of Will's eye, he saw the ball escape the fingers of the quarterback. It soared through the air like a bird. George's eyes widened to the size of gumballs as his gaze fell upon the pass. He leapt into the air as if he were standing on springs, his outstretched to steal the ball out of the air. Success is something that never happens consistently. The ball ricocheted off of the tips of George's fingers and spun tauntingly out of reach. The receiver pulled the ball into his grasp and fled to the end zone. Will's heart sank in despair; Miller had taken the place that they felt they so rightfully deserved.

"TOUCHDOWN MILLER!" the commentator screamed. The offense rejoiced with one another and made their way as a free spirited mob towards the sideline. Horace whipped off his helmet, fuming. Will could feel the steam blowing out of Horace's ears as he watched his friend snatch the water bottle out of its container, gripping it as if he were trying to suffocate it. Water issued from the nozzle into Horace's mouth. There was no sedation in Horace, no silencing contribution to the beast's rage. George trudged to the water cooler, his head hanging in shame. He made no effort to look up into the stands, to face the Ashley after his failure to stop the touchdown. The roar of the visiting spectators was the only thing that was louder than the stinging sight of the scoreboard. They faked a field goal, sprinting the ball back into the end zone, adding an extra two points their score. "The two point attempt is good!" Beneath the word 'Visitors', the score increased to 31. 44

"Kick return!" Coach Arald bellowed, clear displeasure in his tone. Will pulled the bag of ice out from his pants leg, retrieved his helmet and followed Malcolm onto the field. Before his foot crossed the edge of the sideline, Coach Duncan's hand slapped Will's chest, halting him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded. Will remained silent. Instead, he pointed at Malcolm, indicating his spot on the kick return unit. Coach Duncan shook his head. He waved a player behind him, number 34, Peter Berrigan, an arrogant, self-absorbed backup running back. Peter had made it his point to whine, complain that Will had gained _his _position and that it should be his instead. Will disliked him greatly, but not just for his smug conceit. Peter words were as false as the devil's; he swayed the hearts of sweet girls who only wanted someone to love and cherish. He defiled them, took what he wanted and abandoned them in beds of misery and lost in darkness. Horace had offered on several occasions to 'show' Peter his contaminations in so many people, but Will said that he didn't know how to lie to police. Peter replaced the empty position next to Malcolm. Will could see the smirk beneath his helmet. He limped back to the bench and replaced the ice bag underneath his knee pad. He groaned in distress and stretched his leg out. Another presence slid next to him on the bench, one whose aura was still boiling from aggravation. Will turned his head nervously to face Horace who stared barbarically in Peter's direction. Will sighed; he felt that he needed to apologize for his actions earlier.

"Horace, I'm sorry," Will apologized. Horace's eyes widened in surprise and he shifted his attention onto Will. A nervous weight fell onto Will's shoulders. He wanted to get away from Horace just in case he might enrage him. But Horace nodded and patted him on the back.

"No need to be sorry, Halt provoked you." He turned to catch glimpse of Halt, who stared intently down at Miller's kicking unit. He showed no remorseful sign.

"Do you think he's still furious with me?" Will asked. Horace took another glance at Halt and shook his head.

"Perhaps, but more at the middle linebacker because of the safety," Horace answered. A wave of guilt washed over Will. Halt was right, the only reason that he still pressed forward was because of Alyss. Her very person had driven him insane, he wished not to appear weak, but his blunder had already done that for him. The pain was near unbearable and standing was near impossible. Horace massaged the back of his thigh nonchalantly. Will noticed this; he thought of asking Horace if he was okay, but decided against to avoid another confrontation. Horace was much more defensive of his conditions. He would often be offended if anyone suggested he were in pain. Will returned to his previous topic. He sighed deeply, longing, wishing that this night had progressed differently.

"Halt was right," Will admitted. Horace regarded him strangely.

"What's he right about?" he asked.

"The only reason I continued to play through my pain was because of Alyss," Will replied. Horace chuckled lightly; Will stared at him. "What's so funny?" Horace shook his head and huffed.

"It was too obvious!" Horace laughed. Will raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "Will, this entire team knows you, knows that you love Alyss. Any football player, whose crush or girlfriend was in the stands, would fight, no matter how much pain he was in."

"Yeah, but look at George!" Will pointed out. "He's not in pain; he just made a couple mistakes." Horace shrugged.

"I bet if he had a broken leg, George would be dragging himself onto the field just to impress Ashley," Horace mused. Will hunched over and looked at George, who was on his knee, staring depressively at the ground.

"Hey George!" Horace called. He dared not look up, ashamed to show his face. "Come on buddy, I'm not mad! Come over here!" For a few seconds, George showed no intent of joining them. Then he stood up slowly and dragged himself to the bench. He slumped down next to Will. The only sound emanating from him was the sound of his discouraged breaths.

"What's wrong with you?" Horace asked. "You look like someone killed your puppy." George said nothing; he continued staring dispirited at the grass. A kick issued from the other end of the field, snatching Will and Horace's attentions away. Just Malcolm was going to catch the ball; Peter dashed over and snatched the ball away from Malcolm's grasp. He took off behind dueling blockers, weaving through the gaps, hoping to remain untouched. He only made it fifteen yards when what looked to be the middle linebacker rampaged through Peter. The ball slipped from his grip, open and inviting to all. Players from both sides began screaming, hoping their teams would pick up on this crucial sight. Malcolm was the first to spot the ball and dove desperately. The ball was firmly in his grasp, no amount of piling on would dislodge it.

"Kick by number 18, Martin Bartell of the Knights for 75 yards. Returned by number 34, Peter Berrigan of the Eagles for a gain of fifteen. Fumble recovered by number 18, Malcolm Meralyn!" the commentator announced.

"Horace!" Coach Duncan bellowed, whipping his head around for a sight of the behemoth. Horace rose from the bench, strapped on his helmet and ran up to the coach. Coach Duncan gestured him to the offensive huddle. Will felt slightly assured that Horace was playing full back, but disappointed that Coach Duncan had not called him alongside. The coach called out a play to Halt, who repeated it in a low tone and broke the huddle. For the first time, Will watched the offensive line form from the sidelines. Behind them, Will saw an unsure Halt, a swaggering Peter, and a towering Horace. He could only hope that the ball would be placed in Horace's care instead of Peter's idiotic hands. Halt hunched over the center, his hands reaching beneath the center.

"Down! 180…180 set go!" Halt growled, receiving the snap. He faked the run to Horace and then handed off to Peter. Will's heart cried out in protest, unbelieving of what they had just done. Horace pummeled the middle linebacker, but wasn't able to block the two outside linebackers. They smashed Peter from both sides, watching him with amused smiles crumple to the ground.

"Number 34, Peter Berrigan on the run for a gain of two, tackled by number 59 Tony O'Malley and number 51 Bob Hardstriker of the Knights!" the commentator called. Will sighed in defeat; there was no way they would take the lead back if this is the best that they can do. He looked over at George who hadn't changed any detail of his position. Will shrugged and returned his attention back onto the field. Halt called another play and broke the huddle. Perhaps the coaches would learn after Peter's 'success' not to hand him the ball.

"Down! 180…180 set go!" Halt yelled, taking the snap. Again, he faked the run to Horace, but pitched the ball to Peter. The ball bobbled in his unexpected hands while he tried to pick up yards. Number 51 had picked up on this and ran through him as if he were made of paper. The ball spun hopelessly away from Peter and the rest of the offense. The replacement safety seized the opportunity as if it were made of gold and scooped the ball up off the ground. He didn't go far, but it was still enough to celebrate over. The entire quarter had been cheerless for the home section unlike the visiting spectators who had lost their voices in mere minutes. Once Miller's defense had been pulled off the field, Peter sprinted back to the sidelines, as if hoping to slip under cover in a crowd of Football players. But none were willing to hide him; they were all disgruntled with his performance and looked as if they would order a pack of rabid dogs to attack him. Will looked over at the coaches; Coach Duncan's face had been buried in his hands, Coach Chubbs' tongue protruded through his cheek in clear displeasure, and Coach Arald looked as if he were dabbing at his eyes. Six years, an unheard of six year losing streak to one team. This of course would be common at the college level, but certainly not to high school football players. Will understood why Peter's less-than-acceptable deeds would be like being hit by a cinderblock of anguish. Horace was glaring at Peter, looking like he was trying to decide what to do to him. Halt was aiming looks of pure hatred, expressions that Will had never before seen. If Peter had not exhibited such smug arrogance and snootiness, Will might have felt sorry for him. However, Horace didn't have time to ponder on punishments; he strapped his helmet back on and led an infuriated defense back onto the field. Halt replaced Horace's empty seat on the bench next to him. Will stared at him in shock. Halt opened his mouth, perhaps to say that he was sorry, but Will cut him off.

"Don't say it," Will ordered. "You were right; I was only playing injured because Alyss was in the stands." Halt closed his mouth, his eyes shone with astonishment.

"Well, thanks," he said, unsure if what Will had said was a compliment or not. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a loud "psst!" drowned out his words. Halt and Will whipped around to see Jenny and Cassandra staring intently at them.

"You two were so great tonight!" Jenny complimented in a bright tone. Will and Halt exchanged confused glances with one another, trying to decipher Jenny's words.

"We're not even in the fourth quarter yet!" Halt pointed out. Jenny's face turned a deep shade of red. Cassandra fought back a laugh. She cleared her throat and turned her attention to Will.

"So, have you asked her yet?" Cassandra asked him. Will grinned broadly, but shook his head. Cassandra looked puzzled; she looked over at Jenny for an answer, but none came. "Then what do you look so happy about?"

"He's got a plan," Halt replied for Will, his tone filled with a tone of mischief. Jenny and Cassandra both took nervous steps back, as if both boys were carrying contagious diseases.

"Do you mean _he _has a plan?" she asked, pointing at Will. "Or is this some bizarre strategy that you made up?" Halt laughed and regarded Will. Jenny looked as if her breathing had become much easier.

"Oh, well, how are you going to do it?" she asked curiously. Will rubbed his hands together, resembling a villain in cartoon movies.

"You'll see," he replied simply. "You two are coming to her birthday party tomorrow right?" Cassandra and Jenny nodded, though it looked more like Jenny was forcing herself to.

"Yeah, what does that have to do with anything?" Jenny interrogated.

"We thought you were going to ask her after the game," Cassandra added. Will shook his head. That was his original plan until Alyss had mentioned her birthday party. Details had since then changed and become much easier to follow.

"Who asks a girl out the day before their birthday party?" Halt asked rhetorically. Jenny and Cassandra thought about it for a few seconds, and then shrugged. "It sounds more romantic if he asked her on her birthday doesn't it?" Jenny gasped and Cassandra started waving her hands towards her face, as if she were fanning herself.

"Oh Will!" Jenny shrieked gleefully. "I'd hug you, but you are sweaty and gross!" Will laughed.

"Gee thanks," he mused.

"I'm kidding!" she said brightly. "Seriously, I would hug you, but you're on the Football field and I don't want to get you in trouble, right Cass?" She elbowed Cassandra in the arm who grunted in surprise.

"Ouch! Yeah, we would," she agreed, rubbing the spot where Jenny had hit her. A cheer began to emanate from the squad. "We got to go, talk to you after the game!" As they sprinted back to the other girls, Will heard Cassandra whisper: "You didn't need to hit me!" Will and Halt returned their attentions back to the game. The offense had advanced to Meadow Ridge's thirty yard line. Desperation was clear on Coach Chubbs' face. The victory seemed only thirty yards away from the edge of just out of reach. Will looked over at the scoreboard and the stress seemed slightly relieved. They were on the third down with four yards to go for the first down. Coach Chubbs called another play to Horace. Horace's bellows could be heard from the top of the bleachers. The huddle broke and the defense met the offense upon the line of scrimmage. Will could have swore he saw Miller's quarterback shudder when his eyes had fallen upon Horace. He squatted down, his hands underneath the center, awaiting the snap.

"Down! Wide 80…wide 80, set go!" the quarterback roared, taking the snap. Horace pounded through the gap and pulverized the quarterback before he could hand the ball off. At last, the home section had their opportunity to erupt in waves of gleeful cheers. The defense clamored around Horace, glorifying his heroic actions. What they never expected was for their special teams coach to call: "field goal!" Will sat as if he were glued to the bench. Miller's kicker punted the ball through the uprights, adding three points to their lead. He turned his attention to the scoreboard, hanging on the final seconds ticking away. The alarm sounded, a tone taunting Meadow Ridge for their loss of the lead. Just as the year before, Miller seized the opportunities presented to them, capitalizing on mistakes; proving they were the face of the county. The air in the stadium chilled to the point of depressing gusts. Perhaps Meadow Ridge could not do the unthinkable, perhaps a victory over Miller only survived in the realm of imagination.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The bench became warmer the more time Will had spent on it. They were a minute into the fourth quarter; Meadow Ridge saw no light at the end of this dark and depressing tunnel, no sign of a coming victory. Miller's lead wasn't exactly impossible to break, but from what Will observed of Peter's manner, their lead would remain that way. George still sat, sulking silently over his previous failure. Will grew increasingly annoyed with this sight and decided now would be a perfect time to address it. He tapped George lightly on the shoulder who pretended as if he had not felt it. Will thought for a moment and thumped him on the back of the neck. George jumped, his hand clasping his neck. He glared at Will, waiting reluctantly for whatever words that may spill from his mouth.

"How are you feeling?" Will asked him. George's glare was replaced by his sorrowful frown. Will ignored it, determined to invoke some sort of happiness inside of his friend. "Oh come on, it was one mistake!" George stared at him in disbelief.

"'One mistake'," he mocked. "Well that 'one mistake' cost us the game!" Will felt sorry for George; he knew that George had a crush on Ashley since the sixth grade when she offered to play Football with him, Horace, Will, Malcolm, Halt, and Crowley during PE. Ever since then, he's made every effort to impress her, to show his admiration for her. Why he couldn't just tell her was beyond Will's understanding, but George's efforts were not in vain. Will recalled the incident in eighth grade when she had stopped him after school, which resulted in Will missing his bus, to ask him if George had liked her. The thought had slipped his mind owing to the fact that Will's eighth grade football team had reached the playoffs. He never had the opportunity to tell George about that day. Well, here he was, sitting and sulking, doubting that Ashley liked him now, and wishing just to hold her hand, to embrace her as her arms draped around him to never release. Now was as good a time as any. Will cleared his throat; George paid no attention to him.

"You know, I talked to Ashley," Will began. George picked his head back up; the vain in his temple was throbbing in hunger, desperate to hear of Will's memory.

"When did you talk to her?" he asked, projecting an interrogating tone.

"Remember when I missed the bus last year?" Will educed. George remembered numerous incidents of Will missing the bus, so he took his pick.

"You mean the time when you were talking to Taylor and you lost track of time?" George guessed. Will put his face in his palm and shook his head. "Well what about…" Will cut him off, not wanting George to start spouting the names of numerous girls that had stolen his attention.

"Listen to me!" Will interrupted. Pain shot through his leg; he winced and readjusted the ice pack to the lower section of the joint. "Ashley stopped me one day to ask me something." George's face went pale, his false assumption lingering in his expression.

"What d-did she ask you?" he faltered, hoping not to hear words he would surely dread, words that would most certainly end his and Will's friendship. Will huffed deeply.

"Well, it's a bit complicated as to why she had kept it for so long," Will droned on, trying to draw George's anticipation to its peak. "She asked about you." George's heart rate slowed to normal, sweet relief setting in his mind.

"And what did she say?" he asked. Will smiled, his task had been accomplished.

"Well, didn't take much to bring your spirit back," he remarked. George flashed him a chilling look. And if looks could kill, then Will would have been a dead man.

"So help me if you don't tell me what she said!" George threatened. Will laughed and waved his remark aside.

"Relax, I'm messing with you," Will eased. "Ashley had asked if you had liked her and I told her that you did." No apple, no matter the shade of red, could rival the color of George's face. Will deemed it too difficult to determine whether or not George's coloring was out of rage or shock. Perhaps a combination of the two.

"Why did you tell her that?" he demanded. Will rolled his eyes in disbelief.

"The whole school knew that you liked her!" Will retorted. "I'm surprised someone from the school paper didn't even make a subtle hint about it!"

"Why didn't you tell me this?" he demanded.

"Oh come on, George!" Will argued. "We were in the playoffs that season, it slipped my mind!" George snorted indignantly, but a smile shining with confidence was slowly twisting on his face. He stood up, patted Will on the shoulder and walked away next to Coach Chubbs.

"Happy to help," Will muttered under his breath. He extended his leg, hoping that the pain had dulled. That desire had quickly died as paroxysm made its presence felt once more. Will rotated his leg as Coach Duncan had requested, hoping the pain would gradually subside. The agony showed no intent of dying away and gripped Will's knee, biting into the joint. Will moaned in agony and massaged it lightly.

"Punt!" Coach Arald called as Crowley rushed onto the field. Will's heart sank at this word. He forgot of his affliction and resembled George, hunched over, weighed down by the burden of depression. A booming kick emanated from the other side of the field. Will watched the ball spin angrily into the air and slowly descend. Horace rampaged through those who dared try to delay his advance to the ball. The receiver thought on Horace's deeds to the previous ball carrier and distanced himself. Will watched his teammates dance around the ball, treating it as if certain death would meet them if they touched it. Certain death was already looming so there really was no use. Of course, Peter took it upon himself to down the ball while it was still rolling in the opposite direction. Horace regarded him with the upmost hatred, a quantity that could never be matched. Will drank in the image, wanting to pummel Peter with what strength he could muster. He strode back onto the sideline, a broad grin on his face. He acted as if he were the savior of the game, that Meadow Ridge might just stand a chance because of his 'noble' actions. Will wondered if it was too late to take Horace up on his offer. Coach Chubbs called out a play to Horace. The huddle broke with much less enthusiasm; the entire team had lost its morale. This was quickly replaced by the joyless blanket that draped over their hearts as they prepared for yet another loss to Miller. Will had never felt more ashamed in his life. If he hadn't tried to play the hero, tried to appear indestructible in Alyss' eyes, then maybe they would stand a chance. No, he had to steal what would have rivaled the feeling of winning the super bowl. Miller's offensive line crouched down, staring murderously across at the defensive line. Miller's quarterback stood hunched over the center, awaiting the snap.

"Down! Wide 80…wide 80, set go!" he bellowed, taking the snap. The defensive line felt themselves thrown onto their backs, Horace and the other two linebackers had been occupied and the quarterback had time, crucial time to search for an open receiver. At Meadow Ridge's twenty yard line where George and the receiver were meandering with one another. Miller's quarterback lobbed the ball into the air, not caring if the receiver had caught it or not. Will's stomach emitted a nervous lurch. He wondered if his words would hinder George; just add another mistake to his list. His breathing sped as George and his receiver darted around each other, trying to reach the ball first. Will shut his eyes tight, wishing not to see what was to happen. Cheering, not from the visitors, erupted behind him. He opened his eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of what had happened. George and the opposing receiver lay motionless on their backs; Will was confused, trying to guess the reason of the home section's cheers. As he looked closer, he saw George's arms were wrapped around his chest. Or around something… He rejoiced when George's hand was clearly visible, his fingers clutching the football. Meadow Ridge may still have a chance. Will's faith no longer rested with their running tactics. He hoped, prayed that Coach Duncan would switch to a passing game. Discouragement fell over him, wrapping around his chest in its cold, demoralizing embrace. He still would not step onto the field, not have the opportunity to bring about Miller's fall. His heart cried out, desperate for an opportunity for his cleats to touch the soil past the sidelines. But it was of no use; Coach Duncan strangely, still had faith in Peter. He called out a play to Halt. The huddle broke with a renewed sense of conviction. Halt twisted his head around, examining to see if anything in his formation was less than perfect.

"Down! 180…180, set go!" he growled, taking the snap from the center. It was a battle of wills; neither lineman was able to move one another. Horace intercepted the blitz of the middle linebacker. The only flaw in this impression was Peter Berrigan receiving the pitch from Halt. He sprinted past the dueling lineman, but was clipped in the side of the leg by an outside linebacker. Peter pounded his fist onto the ground, his blood curdling agonized screams filling the stadium. The defense clamored amongst one another, celebrating. All hope had now been lost as Will watched the trainers rush out onto the field. Sorrow filled his insides, surprisingly for Peter. His knee was bent awkwardly, clear dislocation. The trainers pulled him to his feet and carried him to the bench. Peter Berrigan, though arrogant and self obsessed, the only other decent running back, was taken off the field. Coach Duncan conversed with Coach Arald for what seemed like hours. Will assumed the topic was not about him and averted his gaze to the offense who stood rigid, blank stares beneath their helmets. Will thought this sight signaled the end of the game. Coach Duncan scanned the players behind him, hoping for some sort of improvisation. The referees made their way over to the coach, conversing with words unknown to Will. The ice bag beneath his knee warmed and felt like gel. Will removed the bag and limped over to the trainer to return the bag. The pain had been banished slightly, but it still could be presumed unbearable. As the trainer swiped the bag out of Will's hand, he heard Coach Duncan call out a name, a name that would fill him with upmost joy.

"Will!" he called. Will stared at him, resembling a deer in the headlights. He thought just maybe he was dreaming, that he had been drugged and this was only a hallucination. He limped up to Coach Duncan who bore an expression bursting with desperation. "How are you feeling?" Will stood frozen; he didn't know whether or not he should lie. He had already made an attempt to play injured and it had cost Meadow Ridge the win.

"I'm still in pain," Will replied. "But it's not as bad as it was earlier." Coach Duncan's eyes averted their attention downwards at Will's knee. For once, he was able to stand on his own will, independent of any object to hold himself upright. He returned his attention to Will's face. Will felt the chill from Coach Duncan run down his spine. He shuddered nonchalantly and gazed back at the coach, awaiting his next words.

"Get your helmet and get back onto the field," he ordered, beckoning him to the bench. Will rushed back to the bench and sprinted back onto the field, ignoring the stabbing pains in his knee. Halt turned and his eyes widened in astonishment. He looked confused, torn over which emotion he should feel whether it be anger or shock. Coach Duncan's breathing gradually evolved an unsteady pace. Will was valuable at this point, he couldn't do much more damage if he did any at all. He called out a play to Halt, hoping, praying that this would produce some sort of benefit.

"Strong 84 splits," Halt announced. Will's heart sank; this play was the most complicated in the book and was only used in crucial times. Well, this was a time of desperation. "Strong 84 splits, on go, on go, ready break!" Will crouched down behind Horace. Agony ran chaotic through his muscles; Will bit his tongue and awaited Halt's gruff voice. Halt checked the line, accepting only perfection.

"Down, 180…180 set go!" he bellowed, taking the snap from the center. He shoved the ball into Horace's bear like arms and dropped back, mocking an intention to pass. Will faked a run to the outside, drawing the attention of an outside linebacker away. Horace pounded up the middle, sloshing forward while dragging two defensive linemen on his back. The middle linebacker stood, awaiting him. Horace pushed with strength that remained, knocking him and his adversary another yard forward.

"Number 51, Horace Altman of the Eagles on the run for a gain of four," the commentator called. "Brought down by a gang of Knights." Horace pulled himself back onto his field unfazed as if nothing had happened to him. Coach Duncan called another play out to Halt. Though he was perhaps a distance from the coach, Will could've swore he saw a nervous sweat break from his cheek.

"26 kickout," Halt breathed. "26 kickout, on go, on go, ready break!" Will crouched down yet again; he was preparing for a signature run, to show Miller that they truly did not possess the willpower to keep Will. Halt hunched over, his hands beneath the center, awaiting the snap.

"Down! 180…180…" it was too late. Will watched the left guard lurch forward slightly. The whistle sounded and flags were thrown wherever possible.

"Flag on the play against Meadow Ridge!" the commentator boomed through the megaphone. Will groaned in disbelief; how could a lineman be called for false start? He knew the snap count, he knew when to engage the defensive lineman. The referee walked to the middle of the field and faced the commentator's booth.

"False start: offense number 63, five yard penalty, remains second down!" the referee announced. Coach Duncan's fury could be felt in the huddle as he screamed: "Wait for the snap!" He called out to Halt and turned around to channel his displeasure.

"26 kickout," Halt repeated. "26 kickout, on go, on go, ready break!" Seconds after the huddle broke, he stopped number 63, gripping his arm tight and stared at him threateningly. Will heard him mutter: "wait for the snap." He released him and made his way up to the center, waiting for the snap.

"Down! 180…180 set go!" Halt yelled, receiving the snap. He faked the run to Horace and pitched the ball out to Will. Will took off down the sideline. Out of god's saving grace, Will danced out of reach of a diving outside linebacker. He staggered and he felt a limb, perhaps from Miller's sideline trip him up. Will fell face first into the painted grass, fury boiling in his insides. He jumped back to his feet, glaring up at number 28 who looked pleased with his underhanded tactic. Will turned his head to discover a flagless terrain. He felt betrayed; no referee had seen this. Instead, one was making his way to guide Will away from Miller's sideline. Before that could happen, a behemoth that resembled Horace seized number 28 by the hem of his jersey and yanked him onto the field. The large safety tumbled and lay sprawled, spitting and sputtering. The moment he had gotten to his feet, Horace charged and pulverized him like a rhinoceros. Will joined Miller's players in separating Horace and the large safety. Horace whipped off his helmet, begging number 28 to come at him. Whistles were issuing all over the field, flags became airborne for mere seconds and ordered Horace back to the sidelines. The referee then made his way back onto the field.

"Personal Foul: Unsportsmanlike conduct, number 51 of the offense, player is suspended for the remainder of the game with an additional 15 yard penalty!" the referee called. Instead of joining the circle of referees behind him, he walked up to Coach Duncan and conversed for a few seconds. By the time it had ended, Will could see only the referee walking away and Coach Duncan screaming at Horace, wondering what had possessed him to commit that sort of violence. By the time they were done, Coach Duncan called out another play to Halt.

"I 20 kickout!" Halt muttered. It was clear that Horace's behavior was disturbing his focus. "I 20 kickout, on go, on go, ready break!" Will crouched down behind Halt, hoping that this play would develop some sort of success.

"Down! 180…180 set go!" Halt roared, taking the snap. He faked a run to Will who engaged the middle linebacker. The weight and strength difference was clear. However, the delay was enough. Halt's eyes widened and he launched the ball into the air. The ball spiraled gracefully like a bird. Will held his breath, praying silently that Malcolm would reach the ball first. Like a miracle, the corner Malcolm danced with tripped over his laces. Malcolm jumped as if he were standing on hot rocks and snatched the ball out of the air. Unable to regain his balance, he fell onto this back, the ball pressed tight to his chest, fearful that it may escape. Will exhaled in relief, what precious time remained they could burn to at least bring forth an even score.

"Pass to number 18, Malcolm Meralyn for a gain of thirty! First down for the Eagles!" the commentator yelled. The silence in the stands had broken. Cheers echoed throughout the stadium, spirits soared higher than the clouds themselves. Hope seemed more precious. Miller's defense exchanged nervous glances with one another, displeased with current events. Will turned to the scoreboard and his spirit fell just as quickly as if had rose. Fifteen seconds remained on the clock and they had another half of the field to get to the end zone. Coach Duncan called out the final play to Halt.

"I 80 reverse," he announced. "I 80 reverse, on go, on go, ready break!" Will was confused; with so little time, it toyed with his mind as to why Coach Duncan had chosen a running play. The huddle broke, their hearts pounding hard against their chests. Nerves felt sickening, and burdens weighing on the offense's shoulders suddenly felt heavier. Halt crouched slowly, huffing anxiously.

"Down! 180…180, set go!" Halt roared, taking the snap for the final play. He pitched the ball out to Will who took off down the sideline. Everything he passed became a blur, he had no control over his legs. He saw the end zone and between them was an outside linebacker. Will lowered down and the linebacker imitated his action. He drove forward, knocking himself and his opponent into the end zone. Every thought in Will's mind was drowned out by the sound of the home section celebrating. Screams of delectation were deafening; Will felt a smile cross his face, the deed had been done. Blitheness filled his insides, stealing his attention away from his agonized knee. Multiple pairs of arms yanked him to his feet, and then tugging him into an airtight embrace. Will could hear Halt sobbing; they had done it. Malcolm, Will, and Halt sprinted back to the sideline for Crowley to truly secure the victory. All eyes were fixed upon the field goal unit, the entire stadium had grown breathless. Will's heart beat rivaled the speed of a cheetah. He watched the snap, followed by Crowley's kick, then the precious image of the ball spinning gleefully through the uprights. The sound of the buzzer roaring was repressed under the volume of the home supporters. At long last, six long, depressing years, Meadow Ridge was walking off the field as the victors. Cheerleaders and spectators were hugging one another, tears were glistening on the sweaty faces of the football players. Coach Duncan found it too difficult for words to be vocal. Instead, he pulled Will into a fatherly embrace. He turned to Halt who was clutching the game ball. He offered it to Will who refused. Instead he gripped the ball, his fingertips brushing Halt's and they raised the ball into the air. The roar of the spectators had unthinkably increased in volume. As they brought their arms down, he felt someone club him playfully in the back of the head. He whipped around to see Horace grinning broadly at him.

"You show off!" he joked. They gripped each other's hands and smashed their shoulders against one another. Will staggered back, but was laughing. "I knew they would put you back in eventually!" Will laughed again and faced George and Malcolm were looked as if they were sobbing. They embraced, Will heard their sweat-mixed tears drop onto his shoulder pads. Coach Duncan called for the team to line up and shake Miller's hand. Horace shoved Will to the front of the line. Even Miller didn't look heartbroken about the loss. They bore congratulating smiles, hundreds of hands shaking in respect for a hard fought battle. Even the sullen number 28 took the time to congratulate Will. Coach Duncan ordered them to the locker room to change out and congratulate them. The entire team knew that these words were code for giving them a long speech. The sound of cleats hitting the pavement at different moments echoed through the stadium. Alyss rushed down the stairs leading to the bleachers to catch glimpse of Will. Her friends appeared at her side, breathless. Will had no hint to what words they were speaking, the only thing he noticed was that they kept looking into the throng of football players. Will caught her gaze; he felt his mouth twist into a smile at the sight of her. Alyss did the same, but carried a pronounced sense of shyness. Will found her much more attractive that way. He watched as she brushed her sleek blonde hair away from her face, uncovering her dazzling, breath stealing gray eyes. She fidgeted with her hands, trying to work the courage to ask him something. Will did no better; his heart beat rendered his speech broken. Will stopped, ceasing movement of those behind him. His teammates stood behind him, confused, trying to figure out what he was trying to do. Alyss found the words she so desperately needed. She mouthed: _meet you after the game. _Will opened his mouth to reply, but felt no strength to speak a silent reply. Instead, he forced himself to nod which brought her entrancing smile back upon her face. Horace clubbed him in the back of the head, urging him to keep moving. With great reluctance, Will waved Alyss a temporary goodbye, holding onto his promise to meet her after he changed. He never felt a great sense of relief than when he removed his shoulder pads. It was like setting down a heavy load you had been carrying on your shoulders for an extended period of time. He requested Horace help him get his game pants off, a request that Horace did not agree to so keenly. After minutes of fighting, they managed to wrestle Will's pants off of his injured leg. Will removed his pads and threw them back into his locker. He tossed his jersey and his pants into their respected bins for washing. After that, Will pulled on his shorts, filled his empty grip with his IPod, and slung his book bag over his shoulder. He chose the song _She Will Be Loved _by _Maroon Five_. It was not the typical type of song he would listen to, but his mind clung to thoughts of Alyss. He resisted all temptations to tell her, reminding himself of her birthday the next day. A grip startled him, delaying his meeting with Alyss with who knows how long. Will whipped around, infuriated over who dared keep him from the girl whose smile he so deeply cherished. Halt and Crowley stood behind Horace, who removed his iron grip from Will's wrist.

"Just where does the heartthrob think he's going?" Horace mused. Will said nothing; he was confused, wondering what they so desperately needed that they felt it necessary to keep him from Alyss. "I think he may want to hear a suggestion." Will shook his head in refusal.

"No thanks," he answered quickly. Before he could turn away, Crowley stepped up.

"Hear us out," he pleaded. Will sighed, defeated. He removed his headphones and replaced his IPod in his pocket.

"Fine, talk," he gave in. Crowley and Halt exchanged triumphant smiles.

"Halt told me of your plan for Alyss' birthday," Crowley began. Will flashed Halt a reproachful glare, who held up his hands in innocence. He smacked Crowley on the shoulder.

"I didn't tell you anything!" Halt protested. Both Will's and Halt's eyes had fallen upon Horace. He shrugged and murmured: "guilty." Will rolled his eyes, beckoning for Crowley to continue. "I think telling Alyss tomorrow is so romantic!" Will raised an eyebrow, dumbstruck at Crowley's behavior.

"This was so important that you needed to stop me?" he remarked in a frustrated tone. "Alyss is waiting for me!" Crowley held up his hands, pleading silently with Will to allow him to speak. Will sighed again, permitting Crowley to talk once more.

"Horace told me you had written her a poem," Crowley droned on. Will shifted his attention to Horace who showed not even the slightest trace of guilt.

"What else haven't you told him?" Will demanded. Horace remained silent, fearful that whatever he might say would bring Will's anger to a boil. Will shook his head in annoyance.

"Halt and I came up with an idea that you could get her a necklace or something of that nature," Crowley finished. Will stared at him, pondering over his words. He had no gift for her, but Alyss had assured him that he need not present one to her. But he had loved her for two long, painful years. In this period, Will had fended off scores of girls, his heart set on being with Alyss. However, every time he had made any attempt to talk to her, he found an excuse to back away, and working up the courage had grown ever so difficult. Finally, he was able to have conversations with her. Yes, there were times where her beauty had rendered him speechless, fearful that whatever that may escape his lips would push her away. Horace deemed it necessary to criticize Crowley's idea.

"And just where do you suppose Will's going to get the money?" Horace inquired, raising an eyebrow. Crowley stared as if the answer were obvious.

"The school pays him don't they?" he replied. He regarded Will, praying for no contradiction. Will nodded supportively; in his free periods, he reported to the Assistant Principal's office and performed various tasks. Surprisingly, he had been paid generously and kept a substantial amount in the bank. Will felt what he first assumed was a magazine being thrust into his grip. After studying it closer, Will recognized it as a Kay Jewelers jewelry catalog. He often paid no attention; those who dared cross the threshold into his mailbox made their way into his trash can. He flipped through and skimmed across the pictures. None caught his eye and Crowley's idea had quickly turned useless. He attempted to return it, but Crowley waved it away, as if it were something disgusting. "You keep it." Will shrugged; just another one to send to the dump.

"Anything else?" Will asked exasperated. Concern must be setting in Alyss' mind, wondering what delayed their meeting. Perhaps if Crowley, Halt, and Horace hadn't made a last minute decision to cease his pace, he would've been out there, able to see to her dazzling, hypnotizing smile. Just the thought was enough to send Will into a trance. He felt himself swaying on the spot; Horace deemed the moment appropriate to bring Will back to a world of reality. He snapped his fingers just outside Will's ear, startling him. Crowley gestured for him to leave. Will scowled.

"As if I need permission," he grumbled to himself. He then considered himself thankful he was able to escape before either one of them could come up with another ridiculous notation. Will sauntered around crowds of energized spectators. He made it a point to pass girls who were flashing hopeful glances at him. A girl whom he had never seen before blocked his path, forcing him to take notice of her. She had brown hair flowing to the middle of her shoulders. Her eyes were hazel, her skin was slightly tanned, and her teeth looked as if they had been freshly weaned of braces. Beneath her eyes were dark green streaks, Will's number 23 on one cheek, and his last name, Treaty on the other. He sighed, emitting a subtle tone of annoyance. He waited for her to speak her peace. Instead, she stood, twisting and fidgeting. She was smiling deeply, but nerves kept her lips sealed. After a few seconds of enduring impatience, Will finally heard her talk.

"H-hi Will," she greeted nervously. Will raised his eyebrow at her.

"How do you know my name?" he asked her.

"You're in my Creative Writing class," she answered. The girl looked as if Will should have known this already, but he hardly ever paid attention to anyone, let alone another girl. He opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it. "I thought maybe you could text me sometime." This statement was one that no one was able to deny. Her hand extended nervously, shaking while clutching a small piece of paper. Will took it from her hands and put it in his pocket. "I'm Dalia by the way." Again, her hand trembled as she brought it up slowly. Will regarded it for a few seconds and shook it.

"I'm Will, but I guess you already know that," Will introduced. "Listen, I'd love to talk, but I need to talk to someone, nice meeting you." Dalia emitted a nonchalant squeal, but remained frozen where she stood. Will brushed past her, eager to retreat. He hoped the first encounter with Dalia would be the last. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lone couple embracing and kissing lightly. Will turned his head to see George and Ashley, their lips locked as if they had been glued together. A slick smile crossed his face and Will shook his head. It was about time they had gotten together. Will scanned the area once more and found Alyss where she had been standing before he went into the locker room. He thought about sneaking behind her and put his hands in front of her eyes, but the sound of her giggling friends would give him away. His heart pounded against his chest, screaming to be let free. His mind was blank, no thought to approach her with. He inhaled deeply, as if there were a sweet aroma in the air and strode up to her. His steps were short and numerous, as though his feet were fighting the urge to go to Alyss. Her entrancing smile revealed its presence as her eyes fell upon him. Will discarded her two giggling friends in the background. The space between them was filled with silence and awkwardness. Finally, Alyss broke through and cleared her throat.

"You were absolutely amazing tonight!" she complemented. This was an all too familiar comment; he often heard it from it from other girls who had taken to time to watch Will perform. Strangely, its effect this time differed greatly. Over the course of two years, it had grown rather annoying; Will thought it was the only thing they were able to come up with. However, his heart had melted when he heard it from Alyss. He was speechless, no sense to reply. Alyss' friends were giggling uncontrollably now; Alyss turned to them. "Shush!" They silenced themselves, but bemused smiles still lingered upon their faces. Will heard phrases such as 'he's so cute' and 'awww, he's shy around her!' He paid them no attention.

"Thanks, you uh….um…." he stuttered. His voice had been muted by the sight of Alyss' adoring, glistening, gorgeous eyes. He felt himself gazing back at her, reminiscent of scenes in a romantic movie. He was quickly withdrawn from the state by the sound of laughter. This however, was clearly not feminine. Will directed his attention behind him to find Horace, Crowley, Malcolm, and Halt all standing at a distance, staring hungrily at the twosome. Will ignored them and returned his gaze back upon her. He studied her; she wore a white halter top, blue jeans, sneakers, and a gray Abercrombie sweater. To him, there was no girl to match her elegance, no girl able to compare to Alyss' composure. With effort, Will had found the words he had been looking for. "You look uh, really beautiful today Alyss." Alyss' eyes glittered at the sound of the complement. Her friends were breathless; they were overcome by giggling fits.

_Giggling should be made illegal, _Will thought bitterly. Alyss turned her attention back onto her interfering friends. They read her expression like words on the page of a book and sank away. A sense of relief blanketed Will; Alyss turned back to Will, twisting as if it were a habit. Both were at loss for words, both bowing before shyness. Will thought about her birthday party, how he so desperately hungered for it, deprived of its nourishment. Alyss banished the silent air that stood between them.

"H-how are you feeling?" she asked nervously.

"W-what d-d-do you mean?" Will asked, timidity faltering his speech.

"Well, you said that you haven't defeated Miller in five years right?" Alyss quizzed.

"Oh yeah!" Will realized. "It felt amazing! It's only better because I'm talking to you thought." Alyss' heart melted, compelling her to fall even more love with him.

"Awww thanks!" Alyss swooned. Silence came over them once more. It was Will's turn to break the silence. The thought of her birthday took over all other thoughts within his mind. He considered his poem and doubts began to overwhelm his head. A girl of her composure would surely believe his poem unworthy for her eyes.

"So, are you excited for tomorrow?" Will asked. Alyss' eyes glittered, excitement clear upon her face.

"Yeah, it's not much, you know," Alyss replied, her voice absence of enthusiasm. "Just some friends over a pool party, nothing special." She shifted her feet nervously; anxious to speak what had burdened her mind for years. Will was no different; his nor did he truly understand what had driven to him to fall for a girl not as popular, but as beautiful as Alyss. Whatever it may be, Will liked what it had done for him. He would've never had such a thing as shyness to battle from the first day of high school. He could hear _Gotta be Somebody _by _Nickelback _echoing in the back of his mind. Those around are able to tell the tale of the many spans of anxiety Will had fallen into, for he wondered day and night if Alyss shared his emotions. Countless sleepless nights, training days in which he imagined Alyss somewhere in the corner of a weight room, watching him while he lifted. The mere thought of her tortured his mind. Her very presence brought Will's heart to a pace unmatched. Speaking drew what strength he had and by the time the conversation died away, Will would be limp.

"It's going to be amazing," Will assured. A comment worked itself as a part of the sentence. "Just like you." Alyss nearly collapsed. She thought her ears were deceiving, but they were not. Her breath resembled that of a dog panting, but not as loud. Speechless, that's what Will's comments had made of her. Just a girl with so much to say, but lacking the tenacity.

"It's just because I came right?" Alyss tested. Will knew this quiz all too well. Scores of girls had used this tactic; all of which had failed.

"No, you just are amazing," Will verified. Alyss did not press the issue, partially because she was at loss for breath. His words were precious to her, just fold them up, put into her pocket, and hold close to her heart whenever she needed them. The conversation would have been much longer, but the sound of a familiar roar of a car horn moaned yards away. Disappointment filled her insides and showed clear on her face. Though for only the remainder of the night, it would be the most difficult thing for her to do. She stared at the ground, hopeful for a miracle to meet them at that particular moment.

"That's my ride," she announced quietly. Will's heart sank; it felt like another moment mirroring those of the past two years, those that had depicted him failing to make his adoration of her vocal. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cassandra and Jenny laughing amongst the crowd of Horace, Crowley, Malcolm, and Halt.

"Jenny!" he called. He wished that he drew her attention instead of six separate recognitions. Will gestured for her to come. Alyss looked confused; she wondered if Will was replacing her with another girl to talk to. The unexpected struck her hard. She watched Will hand his IPod over to Jenny. He turned to her, an inquiring look upon his face. "Do you want a picture together?" Alyss felt her heart stop; no guy, especially one like Will Treaty had ever asked this of her. This had to be a dream, one that was beautiful and cruel at the same time. She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. In turn, Alyss felt his arms drape around her torso. This was more of a couple's pose, but she discarded it. It looked as if Jenny was having a hard time taking the picture. Will rolled his eyes; he wished that she didn't have to lose herself in this sight. The sound of photographic clicking filled their ears, a signal that they were permitted to release one another. But neither one felt that desire. At last, Will was able to hold Alyss in his arms, but only for a moment. The sweet, delectable bliss filled their insides to the point of bursting. Alyss' entrancing smile reappeared on her face once more. Will fell victim once again, his eyes staring dreamily back at her. She giggled softly and returned her gaze. A voice belonging to a middle aged woman called out Alyss' name. They sighed, reluctant to part company with each other. Alyss felt tears burning in the corner of her eyes, but caught herself, reminding her that Will would be at her party the next day.

"I've got to go," she croaked, her head slightly sagging. Will wished he were blind, unable to see this image. She was clearly unhappy and this was toying with Will's heartstrings. Following an impulse, they embraced. But she had done what Will dreamed would never happen. She leaned upwards and kissed his cheek. Her head rested on his chest for two seconds, but what felt like two minutes. Will thought he heard the snapping of his IPod camera again, but discarded it, focusing on this moment instead. Their arms relaxed off of each other and Will accompanied Alyss to passenger side of the car. Her hand brushed his arm and opened the car door. She waved, her adoring smile directed to him and only him. Will stiffened and waved back to her until she shut the door, her face obscured behind the tinted window. The car pulled away, leaving Will standing alone on the curb, staring at a clearing parking lot. His mind was weary and exhausted. He turned to retrieve his IPod from Jenny, only to find her showing off unknown elements on the screen. As Will approached, she turned to him, presenting the photo of his request. Upon sight, his mind felt warm and fuzzy. There stood fragments of a precious memory, one of which Will shall never forget. Alyss, her hands clutching the back of his neck, her silky blonde hair partially tumbling over his shoulder. Her head lay relaxed on his chest, smiling adoringly. Will saw himself a few minutes in the past, wallowing in a pool of admiration. His hands draped around her torso, holding her close, his chin resting on the top of her head. He too, was smiling back, looking the happiest he had ever been. Will felt his mouth twist into a grin, his IPod slipping back into his hands. Silently, he strode over to his car, the picture etching itself in his mind forever, always available whenever he needed something to raise his spirits. Even as he felt himself in his bed, slowly slipping away into the dimension of dreams, he could still feel her soft lips brushing his cheek.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Morning crept like a stealthy jaguar, the sun rising without warning. Its rays burned through Will's blinds, blinding him even as he slept. He shielded his eyes and slipped out from under the covers. His knee let out a painful throb, but was otherwise healthy enough to bear his weight. Out of instinct, he trudged to the bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Something was tugging at him, as if he were forgetting something. However, that only turned out to be Ebony pawing his leg. Will let her out to do her business and watched her sprint back into the house with renewed vigor. After pouring kibble into her bowl, it still seemed as if something was missing. He glanced at the kitchen table and noticed the Kay Jeweler's catalog that he discarded the previous night. Out of boredom, Will flipped through the pages. His eyes stumbled upon a gleaming silver necklace with a heart pendant. The word _love _was etched on the metal. The image acted as a slap across the face. How could he have forgotten about Alyss' birthday party? He ate, showered, and dressed quickly. He grabbed his car keys, drawing Ebony's attention away from her food. She cocked her head sideways, confused; Will never leaves this early on a Saturday. He knelt down, beckoning for her to come. She trotted across the tile and sat down like the perfect lady she portrayed. He reached to pet her head; in turn, she began licking his wrist.

"I won't be gone long," Will promised. Ebony nipped him lightly, as if she were saying "You better." Will stood up and sprinted down the stairs into the garage. He shot a text to Jenny and Cassandra, requesting they meet him at the mall in a few minutes. He would break the news to Horace in person. Early morning traffic was frustrating and time consuming. Will plugged his IPod to his speakers and chose the song _One Step Closer _by _Linkin Park. _He enabled the shuffle system and placed it in a cup holder. Drivers next to him glared, as if the roar of the guitars was somehow offending them. As the song drew to a close, Will looked behind him, checking to see how far he had moved. He cursed silently, beginning to think that he would reach Horace's house faster if he got out the car and ran the rest of the way. After enduring _Pain Redefined, The Collapse, Everybody's Fool, _and _The Diary of Jane, _traffic thinned out, allowing Will a steady journey to meet his friend. He pulled up to Horace's marble white, two story house. Will rang the doorbell while listening to Horace's German Shepard, Rusty, bark through the glass peers. The only thing Will lacked was Horace's presence, so he rang the doorbell again, listening to its muffled chiming. He leaned back on the porch railing and stared up at the sky. Five seconds passed…ten…twenty…thirty seconds ticked away and no indication Horace would answer the door. Will considered calling him, letting his ringtone act as his alarm clock. Before he could retrieve his phone, the sound of locks dismantling drew Will's attention away. Horace stood in the midst, half wrestling his dog from pouncing on Will. His hair was dripping, probably because he had just taken a shower.

"Cass told me you wanted us to go the mall," Horace greeted. "I figured you'd turn up." Will grinned; he started down the porch steps before Horace said: "Come on, my mom's cooking breakfast." This snagged the flowing thoughts in Will's mind. Mrs. Altman was one of those hosts who on most occasions would overfeed her guests. She was indeed an amazing chef.

"Oh no, I don't want to be any trouble," Will refused. Horace stood rigid; this was the first time Will had refused his mother's food.

"Don't be an idiot," Horace remarked. "Come in, as thin as you are, you're probably starved!" Will shrugged and stepped inside onto hardwood. He removed his shoes out of habit and followed Horace into the kitchen. Mrs. Altman was tall, but not as tall as her son. She donned a flowered apron around her waist; her brown hair was tied in a ponytail so as to keep it away from her face. She looked up whilst scrambling a plethora of eggs in a large pan. She regarded him sweetly.

"Oh hello, Will!" she greeted brightly. She possessed a personality such as those in Disney movies, where the woman would be so graceful that birds perched themselves upon her arms and head. Will only hoped that she wouldn't burst into song. Mrs. Altman was widowed; Horace had mentioned to Will that his father was killed in a car crash. They bore the same pained expression, as if the thought was still unbearable to think. "Are you hungry?" Horace elbowed him hard in the ribs, forcing him to reconsider his thoughts.

"Yes ma'am," Will replied politely, rubbing his side. She flashed him an excited smile and turned her attention back to the stove. Horace led him to the table and sat down next to  
>Will. A loud ring startled them; Mrs. Altman began humming nonchalantly while she opened the oven. Within her mitted grasp was a tray upholding large, fluffy biscuits. Will's stomach resembled Ebony growling; it cried out for nourishment. Horace took notice and snorted. They sat in silence, too vacant for words as they watched Mrs. Altman pulled three plates from an overhead cabinet. Will shifted uneasily in his seat.<p>

"Uh, would you like some help?" Will asked her. This had stolen her attention. Mrs. Altman's eyes were fixed upon him, looking as if no one had asked this of her. Nevertheless, her motherly smile revealed its presence.

"Oh, no thank you dear," she denied good naturedly. Her eyes darted onto Horace, a visible expectant glint visible. Horace showed no reaction. "Why can't you be polite like him?" She pointed at Will as she finished her speech.

Horace shrugged. "I'm not a big softy like he is." Will aimed a kick at Horace, but caught the leg of his chair. Will bit his lip to keep silent, hoping Mrs. Altman didn't hear the bang from under the table. Horace stared down at his twiddling thumbs, searching for words. Finally he said: "Why did you ask me, Jenny, and Cass to the mall?" Will shrugged.

"Am I not allowed to go the mall with my friends?" Will inquired.

"Will, Cass said you texted her and Jenny to meet you at 9:00," Horace began. He regarded the clock hovering over his silver microwave. "And it's 7:30 now, even for you, this is strange." He studied Will's face and then nodded apprehensively, as if the answer was sitting plainly on his face.

"Cass said this, Cass said that," Will mocked. "What are you, in love with her?" A deep, revealing red blush dusted Horace's cheeks. He was silent for a few seconds and then said nonchalantly: "No." Will opened his mouth to argue, but Mrs. Altman had beaten him to the point of contradiction. She placed three plates of eggs and sausage patties onto the table, two for Horace and Will. She positioned the tray of biscuits in the middle of the table. After that, Mrs. Altman sank down into her chair, clutching her mug of coffee. The aroma nearly stole Will's attention away from Horace; as he began shoveling food into his guzzle.

"Horace, you told me last night that you were in love with her," she revealed. "You wanted advice, looking so desperate to tell her." Will nearly choked on his bite of eggs; Horace face was now obscured by his hands. What spots Will was still able to see was colored a bright crimson.

"Why don't you just announce it to the world?" Horace remarked, defeated. Will leapt to his feet, drawing both of their attentions, and woke Rusty who was dozing in the corner.

"Ha! I knew it! You like her!" Will cooed. Mrs. Altman snorted; Horace clasped his hands to his ears, eager to escape the boisterous echo.

"Jeez Will!" he complained. "Do you have to be so loud?" Will sat down, gesturing apologetically. He attacked his sausage links as if they offended him, pretending as if nothing happened. Horace searched for a new topic, one that would shift attention away from him, preferably onto Will.

"So why are we going to the mall anyways?" Horace asked, attacking his plate as if his food had offended him. His eyes then widened, as if a memory had just now struck him. "Did Crowley and Halt get to you?" Will waved his hand back and forth, indicating a slight influence.

"I don't have anything to give Alyss," Will added. "She told me not to get her anything though." Horace raised his arms, as if the answer were hanging obliviously in the air.

"Then why are you so worried about it?" Horace asked. "She told you that she didn't want a present." Will stared at him strangely.

"How thick can your skull be?" he asked rhetorically. "It's a test, and besides, even if she didn't want anything, I would disobey her request."

"Who told you not to get her anything?" she asked curiously. Horace pounced on the opportunity the moment it presented itself.

"Remember what I said a couple years ago?" Horace asked. "You know, of this girl that had transformed Will into shyness?" Will groaned in disbelief; Horace's mouth twisted itself into a satisfied grin.

"Who haven't you told?" Will complained.

"Halt, but you saw yourself that he figured it out on his own," Horace answered. Will rolled his eyes in disgust. Mrs. Altman waved her hand, ordering Horace to cease his antics.

"Shush Horace," she ordered. She then returned her gaze back upon Will. "why did this girl tell you not to get her anything?" Will split his biscuit with his knife and thought for a few seconds, then shrugged.

"Well, what do you kids plan on doing at the mall?" This question drew even Horace's attention away from his plate, which Will deemed miraculous. Will pulled the jewelry catalog from his pocket. Mrs. Altman's eyes regarded it nervously, as if it were an aggressive snake. Her hand inched toward it hesitantly. She gripped it the catalog with her fingers; Mrs. Altman spent the next few minutes combing over the gleaming images. Will and Horace spoke no words devoting their attentions to the delectable food sitting depressed and unattended. Finally, Mrs. Altman had spoken up. She beckoned Will to her side; Horace collected the plates and dashed upstairs to brush his teeth. Mrs. Altman beckoned Will to her side and pointed to the image of the silver necklace of which captured Will's attention earlier in the morning.

"This looks pretty!" she pointed out blithely. "Do you have a picture of her?" Will consulted his IPod, enlarged the photo Jenny had taken the previous night. He watched an adoring smile piece itself together the moment Mrs. Altman's eyes had fallen upon the screen.

"Oh! You kids look so cute together!" she swooned. Mrs. Altman squinted, as if there were an odd detail about the picture. Confusion set in Will's mind; he resisted the urge to snatch his IPod away to see what was appearing so peculiar. "Are her eyes that blue?" Will swooped down, peering in between Mrs. Altman's thumbs. The glow in Alyss' eyes seemed unnatural, even if they were blue.

"That's probably just a glare," Will assumed. "Her eyes are gray believe it or not." Mrs. Altman nodded comprehensively. She flicked her thumb across the screen, revealing an image Will expected not to have. It was a frozen piece of his favorite moment. He assumed Jenny snuck another picture without his knowledge or consent. It depicted Alyss, her arms still draped around his neck, her lips kissing his cheek. He was unable to determine whether this was out of affection or just a friendly gesture. Mrs. Altman's heart melted; Will touched his fingers to his cheek, rubbing the spot where he believed her lips touched him. Affection was bubbling in his insides, his mind felt warm and fuzzy. Horace returned to the kitchen wreaking of spearmint toothpaste and Listerine mouthwash. Of course, Mrs. Altman had chosen to make her admiration verbal; invoking curiosity in Horace's mind.

"What?" he asked, flattening his hair as he strode up to the table. Horace's eyes had fallen upon the picture before Will was able to wrestle his IPod from Mrs. Altman's clutches. A mischievous grin crossed his expression. Will stared at him, a failed attempt to act if there was nothing. "Whose idea was that?" He sounded as if he had just won a contest.

"Jenny's," Will replied simply. Horace looked confused. He was sure Will or Alyss would be at fault; how Jenny was involved was still shrouded in a mysterious veil. Will snorted; the dumbfounded look on Horace's face was golden. Horace attempted to ask how, but words refused to escape his lips. Will took this into the form of a question. "Jenny snuck a picture when Alyss kissed me on the cheek." Horace nodded; his confusion fading. Mrs. Altman exchanged glances between Horace and Will, and finally said: "Well you two best get going if you don't want to be late." Will waved it aside.

"Doesn't matter, Jenny and Cass show up thirty minutes late anyways," Will excused. Horace jabbed him in the back, urging towards the front door.

"Bye mom!" Horace called.

"Thanks for breakfast!" Will added. Horace regarded Will the moment the door had clicked shut behind him.

"When did she kiss you on the cheek?" Horace asked. Will stared at him as if this were obvious.

"Last night after the game," Will replied. "She said 'I've got to go', hugged me and kissed me." He paused, losing himself in his thoughts. Pressure mounted reminiscent of the moments leading to the football game, but for a different purpose. His heart felt heavy, he had to tell her how he felt. Nothing to him was as precious as her heart. Often in times of boredom, Will would grant his thoughts freedom. In unison, they produced his heart's desire, to hold her hand, to hear her say that she loves him and be truthful. A loud snap startled him; disappointment filled his insides. He unlocked the car, permitting Horace's entry. Will plugged his IPod to the speakers and chose the song _She Will Be Loved _by _Maroon Five. _ Horace stared him strangely. Will noticed this and shrugged. "I like it." Horace shook his head and sat back in his seat. All but the music was silent. Halfway through _Animal I Have Become, _Will paused the song and words escaped Horace's lips as if it were a massive jail break.

"So why are we going to the mall?" Horace asked once again. Will dared not remove his eyes from the road, he pulled a rolled up jewelry catalog from his pocket and dropped it onto Horace's lap. Horace opened it and skimmed through its contents. "As many times as I've seen her, I have never seen Alyss with so much as a piece of a necklace." To a steady stop at a red light and Will, peering out of the corner of his eye; pointed at the silver heart necklace.

"Perhaps her mind's view will shift," Will argued. Doubt gripped Horace firmly, refusing to release. He knew Alyss well enough that all emotions but love would melt away should Will present her with his poem. He believed it was a bit softy, but he thought love made all who succumb to it would turn a bit fruity. Of course, Will may have forgotten about it; perhaps a little reminder would be in order.

"You know, some girl's like gifts from the heart," Horace hinted. The answer appeared clearer to Will than Horace expected.

"I plan on giving her my poem too," Will answered. Horace nodded apprehensively, his eyes darting momentarily to the image of the silver necklace.

"A girl's opinion would speak more than mine would," he pointed out.

"Why would you say that?"

"Gee, maybe because you plan on giving it to a GIRL!" Horace answered emphatically. "A girl's heart would turn to a pool should on read your poem." Will smiled and shook his head. The light turned and _Three Days Grace _roared through the speakers.

Cassandra and Jenny sat on the bench outside the doors, conversing in a silent language of which Will could not comprehend. Horace and Will walked up to them and their conversation died away upon acknowledgement. Jenny and Cassandra stood, exchanging hugs with Will and Horace. Will observed Horace and Cassandra; their hug spoke another message than what was given to its participants. It was more of a boyfriend-girlfriend type of hug rather than one meant only for friends. Jenny leaned over to Will and whispered: "Don't you think they'd make a cute couple?" Will ponder a bit and then shrugged.

"I guess so," Will replied. This was the answer Will hoped. Jenny desired, but to no avail. Jenny stared at him.

"You guess so," she echoed. Will slashed back to this morning where Horace admitted adoration for Cassandra. He wrestled with dueling emotions within his head, torn between telling and remained silent. Will shifted his feet nervously.

"Horace mentioned Cassandra this morning," Will revealed, lowering his voice as to not draw the attentions of his topic away from each other. Jenny regarded him, her eyes staring starved, depraved of the sight of seeing his mouth move.

"What did he say?" Jenny asked eagerly. Will directed a swift glance over towards Horace and Cassandra in case they approached. He leaned into Jenny's ear, obscuring his mouth his hand.

"I was teasing him because it was 'Cass said this' and 'Cass said that', I was joking about Horace being in love with her and he said he wasn't," Will whispered. He looked nervously away, but returned his attention back onto Jenny. He leaned into the side of her head. "Then Mrs. Altman said that he told her last night that he was in love with Cassandra." He removed his face from her hair, Jenny's mouth was blanketed by the palms of her hands. Before she could make any sort of sound, Horace and Cassandra were now next to them, regarding Jenny with upmost confusion. She turned to Will, desperate for a lie. Will acted as though nothing was wrong, but Jenny had already made the indication.

"What are you two up to?" Horace asked mischievously. Will watched a blush dust Jenny's cheeks. He could feel her heart pounding.

"We…w-were um…" Jenny stammered. Will intervened.

"Reading my poem," he finished. Jenny exhaled in relief. Cassandra stared at him strangely.

"What poem?" she interrogated. Will slapped a hand over his face, Jenny turned away, and Horace's tongue protruded from his mouth.

"The one he's going to give to Alyss," Horace answered as though this were supposed to be obvious. Cassandra spread her arms innocently.

"Well I didn't know," she excused. Horace shook his head. Cassandra scanned the ground, as if she believed Will might have dropped it. "Where is it?" Jenny's heart stopped in its tracks; it never occurred to her that Cassandra would ask. Will was prepared for it however. He retrieved his IPod from his pocket, consulted the poem and handed it to Cassandra. When it has less an inch from her fingertips, Will pulled it back. She stared at him in disbelief. He selected the song _Perfect Weapon _by _Black Veil Brides, _pulled the poem back to the screen, and dropped it into Cassandra's grasp.

"I wrote it to the tune," Will explained. Cassandra nodded and took the headphones. Her eyes drank in the beauty of words. The mid morning sun beat on their exposed necks. Jenny huffed in discomfort.

"Can we go inside now? It's getting hot out here," she remarked. They strode through the doors into the noisy, comforting atmosphere of the mall. A rush of cool air met them as they slipped through the sliding doors. Jenny looked at Will inquiringly, consulting his council. He looked around for a directory for he never paid much attention to the jewelry store's location. Will scanned the board until he felt someone tap him behind the shoulder. He turned to see Cassandra holding his IPod out to him. Adoration glittered in her eyes as she stared eagerly at Will.

"Oh Will!" she swooned. "That is the sweetest gesture ever!" Jenny opened her mouth, probably to say that she wanted to read it as well. His eyes gestured silently, granting permission. Cassandra turned her attention to the directory.

"So what are we looking for anyway?"

"Kay Jeweler's," Will answered. Cassandra and Jenny exchanged gleeful giggles. The whites of their eyes suddenly brightened from the excitement. Will knew of no reason for this behavior, but he discarded it.

"Forget the guide, we know where it is!" Jenny announced brightly. Horace and Will followed them down the escalator. A few minutes passed and they found themselves surrounded by cases of glittering jewelry. The perfumed air filled their nostrils. A woman approached them. She wore a gray suit, her reddish hair flowed to the bottom of her neck. A wedding ring was wrapped pleasantly around her finger, a gold necklace draped around her neck.

"Can I help you?" she asked. Will felt an air of loneliness come over him. He turned to find Cassandra, Jenny, and Horace outside the store, as to not hinder him. Will consulted the catalog, his eyes pouring over hundreds of necklace sets. AT last, he felt upon the silver heart. His finger marked the spot in the page. The saleswoman studied the image for a few seconds, then beckoned him to follow. As she unlocked the case, Will heard her ask. "Is this for someone special?" Will snorted; he found it amusing that she believed Will would purchase a necklace like that for himself. A joke pieced itself together, but Will resisted the urge to make it vocal. Instead, he nodded. He retrieved his IPod, pulled the image of him and Alyss, frozen smiles lingering on their faces. The saleswoman regarded the picture and immediately, adoration crept slowly onto her face.

"Awww! You two look so adorable together!" she swooned, positioning the necklace into its cushioned box. "How long have you two been together?" Will's expression turned sad. Two failed years enveloped his thoughts. His heart hungered for her presence, to feel her touch and breathe the same air. Will took a discouraged breath.

"We're not together," Will said grimly. The woman looked confused.

"Then what is she then?" Will sighed. Perhaps the word 'love' on the pendant would provide an answer, but he thought wrong.

"She's just a friend," Will replied half-heartedly. No signal of comprehension showed her understood. Slowly, the answer pieced together like a puzzle. Once more, the woman gazed admirably at Will.

"Oh! That's so romantic! She cooed. Will nodded in relief. The woman a _tsk-tsk _sound with her tongue, her touched smile not daring to fade. "Well, she'll definitely fall for you when you give her this." Will huffed, assured of his plan. His mind was fried, the details were complex and difficult to understand.

"Thanks," Will said simply. His imagination was running chaotic; he pictured himself presenting the necklace to Alyss. Tears welled in the corner of eyes as her gaze drank in the presence of the necklace. Her hands covered her shock, unbelieving Will had chosen her above all other girls. The saleswoman shifted her attention up at Will, watching as he swayed slightly. She tapped Will lightly, startling him. Will jumped back, nearly toppling a collection of inexpensive pieces.

"Do you want me to gift wrap it?" she asked. It was a ridiculous question, for the knowledge of how to present jewelry to a girl hung over his head. Will too, knew of this. He shook his head. The woman then guided him over to the register. "$50 please." Will consulted his wallet and pulled her request. After collecting the bills, she picked up the box, treating it as if it were an egg, and placed it carefully into a gift bag. She bade a warm farewell to Will, muttering of how sweet he was. Will felt himself turning in all directions, hoping to catch a glimpse of his friends. He spotted them sitting on a bench; Horace watched Cassandra and Jenny playing Hot Hands. The game looked uninteresting as Will observed Jenny make several futile attempts to catch the back of Cassandra's hands. Will strode over to the; none of whom indicated they knew of his presence. He tapped Horace's shin lightly with his foot. Horace jumped, nearly falling off the bench. He stared irritated at Will. Cassandra averted her gaze long enough for Jenny to catch her off guard.

"Ha! Finally!" Jenny remarked triumphantly. Cassandra rolled her eyes, ceasing their game.

"So are you done?" Cassandra asked. Will held up the bag. A breath of relief issued from her mouth. "Finally, you guys want to just walk around for a few?" 'For a few' was code for a few hours. Before Will could reply, Horace accepted so fast that his feelings for Cassandra couldn't be more obvious. Will and Jenny fell behind; he selected the song, pulled up the poem and handed his IPod over to Jenny. Will watched Cassandra and Horace, repulsed by their constant flirting: Horace would say something, she would slap his arm playfully, he would complement her, and she would blush. A sick feeling knotted her stomach. Will was talented in the art of flirting, but in Alyss' presence, it was much different. Any complement would steal copious amounts of strength, rendering him so weak that remaining silent was necessary. How Horace could be relaxed around Cassandra was beyond his understanding. Jenny rapped him on the shoulder lightly, her eyes glittering.

"Oh my gosh!" she gasped. "Alyss is lucky to have a guy like you!" Will took back his IPod and stuffed it back into his pocket.

"We're not together though!" Will contradicted. He wanted to say yet, but he wasn't so sure he could pull it off. Alyss was the type of girl that you could only find one of. This would certainly grant her a sense of pride.

"Oh lighten up Will!" Jenny urged. "You and Alyss were meant to find one another." Only Will felt the need to challenge her.

"I wasn't meant to be shy around her," Will remarked. "Surely, there was no intention for me to lack guts to talk to her."

"Quit being so negative!" Jenny ordered, slapping his arm rather hard. She sighed, exasperated. They remained silent while following Horace and Cassandra, who exhibited no intent of putting their flirting to a halt. Finally, the quiet air had been broken. "I see the way she looks at you." Will stared, puzzled of her remark. If there was some special glint in her eyes, will had been totally oblivious to it.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Jenny rolled her eyes.

"I mean it's too obvious," she explained. "Will, you're the master of reading body language, I'm surprised you haven't picked up on her signs." Will never paid that much attention to her body language for trying to have a full conversation with her was difficult enough without multitasking.

"She fidgets and turns a lot," Will pointed out. "I know that means she's nervous." Jenny held out her hands.

"There you go!" she remarked. Her expression relaxed. "Trust me, just relax around her, and talk to her like you would me or Cass."

"How do I give her the poem and the necklace?" Will asked. Jenny pondered for a few seconds and shrugged.

"You'll know it when time presents itself," Jenny answered. Will absorbed her words, allowing them to echo in the back of his mind. He and Horace endured a few hours of Jenny and Cassandra combing through clothing stores, trying on different outfits. By the time they were prepared to leave, they were carrying new bikinis, in which Horace and Will judged. Already, his supply of strength had been exhausted. He almost regretted having to go to Alyss' party later, but the thought of her replenished him. Cassandra and Horace exchanged another hug. This resembled that of the one Will and Alyss shared the previous night. Neither participant wished to let go of the other. However, when Cassandra's father pulled up, they released, but reluctantly. Jenny brushed Will's arm, drawing his attention.

"Remember what I told you," Jenny told him. "Do that and she will be yours by the end of the night." Will grew even more tense. His nerves made his stomach churn sickly, his heart was pounding against his chest. He was silent as he dropped Horace off. After Horace slipped through his front door, Will plugged his IPod back into the car speakers. Even the motivating rock songs were unable to sway his tension. He thought of all that could go wrong, all that could spell failure. If this were the case, Will couldn't think what he would turn to. He desired no other girl, he wanted to love one, the one he deemed God's gift to the world. Alyss would surely deem him unworthy. With this mind, Will wondered whether or not he should even go. He sat depressed in his garage. Ebony could be heard whining and pawing at the door. He dialed Cassandra's number to tell her to tell Alyss that he wasn't going.

"Hello?" she greeted.

"Hey Cass," Will greeted glumly. He could picture her concerned expression.

"Oh Will, what's up?" she asked. "You sound depressed." Will sighed deeply.

"Are you still going to Alyss' party?" he asked.

"Yeah of course!" she replied brightly. The answer struck her hard; there was no other reason for him to call. "Don't tell me you changed your mind!" Will wished he could. His words hung in his throat, unwilling to drown his doubts. He heard her groan in frustration.

"I don't feel right," Will lied. He could feel her displeasure through the phone. His stomach let out an irritated moan.

"Do you mean you feel sick?" she asked.

"No, it's just…" The word was tangled in his throat. Cassandra was breathless as if the slightest sound was able to mask the volume of his voice. Will finally found the strength to finish his sentence. "Complicated." Cassandra groaned, resembling an agitated child not having their way. She thought this typical, two years of the inability to Alyss hanging over his head. But even this was unlike the Will she had grown up with. He had never before been afraid of failure, even with Football. Why he decided to change was unclear to her. She knew Will's heart was throbbing, screaming out only for Alyss' heart. It was the same the other way around and she was clueless as to why they hesitated around each other. Nevertheless, she still needed to be firm.

"Will, you are not skipping out on the party," Cassandra told him through clenched teeth. "You will not miss an opportunity to hold the hand of happiness." Only Will held the courage to protest.

"But…" Cassandra cut him off.

"You are going to this party if I have to drag you there by your kicking feet!" Cassandra finished. Will was at loss for words. Cassandra assumed his silence was his way of signifying defeat. "Good, I'll pick you up in case your silence is false." Before Will could respond, Cassandra hung up, Will sighed; there was no escape, nowhere to hide, concealed from his emotions. The black velvet box, for which closed its mouth over the necklace, suddenly captured Will's eye. He pulled it from the bag and opened it, his eyes pouring over its gleaming contents. He fixed his gaze upon the pendant. The word 'love' spoke dividends in the back of his mind. Will pulled his poem from his IPod. His own style had painted his past, present, and the wishes for his future. The memory of the birth of love for Alyss was all too vague. Each second was precise; he felt the loss of space between each breath. He clung onto every detail of her breathtaking image, nearly passing out from the aura she put out. It was their very first day of high school, the very first class of the day. He sat with George and Horace in the back of the room. It was their very first day of high school, their freshman year. It was the first class of the day. He sat with George and Horace in the back of the room, commenting on various sites around them. George struck them with amusement when he saw a poster for the _Percy Jackson _movie. Perhaps by accident, Will had turned and lost himself in her beauty. Horace hit him in the back of the head, bringing back a sense of reality.

"Why don't you go talk to her?" he suggested. Will, radiating with confidence, stood from his seat, and strode over to her. However, each step had to be taken with more effort than the last as he drew closer. He formulated a method in the mere seconds it took him to cross the room, one that he never granted a chance to prove its worth. The only word that he spoke was a common one.

"Hi," he greeted. Alyss rounded on him, her hypnotizing smile stilling the beat of his heart. Will faltered, his sense of pride abandoning him. What Will never knew was that his manner at that particular moment had taken grip of her heart. No boy, especially one as unique as Will ever approached her. The effect that they had on one another was well hidden from the other. For two years, the only word he was able to speak was 'hi,' the rest of his speech was broken. Alyss was no different. But now, sick feelings wriggled through his stomach like a worm, replacing the fragmented words. His nerves were more chaotic and were more concerned with the task of shielding their master from embarrassment. It never occurred to him that Alyss harbored adoration that would only intensify when his words failed him. He pulled Jenny's lecture from deep within his mind. The way he felt right now would require a sedative to calm him. The necklace, the poem, the memories, all spoke a common message. Above all, including Football, Will desire Alyss, hungering to hold her hand, to love her and be truthful when he says it. He breathed deeply, trying to relax himself. He removed the bag from his car, shutting the door behind him. Ebony still scratched at the door, whimpering, longing to see her master. Will pushed the door open, allowing space for his large Black Labrador to pounce on him. He was buffeted a couple steps; Ebony's tail waved back and forth like a whip. Will noted to avoid her backside. He threw the bag down onto his bed and sat down at his desk. He opened his laptop, revealing a black, blank screen. He played with ebony while waiting for his computer to turn on. For the next couple hours, Will combed over his poem, making minor changes here and there. His doorbell rang and Will let out an exasperated sigh.

"I'll be there in a minute! He called uselessly. He knew very well that nobody, no matter how good their hearing is, would be able to hear him through the door. Will waited impatiently, watching his printer slowly spit words onto the paper. "Hurry up!" Urging it did no good. At last, the final sheet was released and Will stapled them together. He gathered the black velvet jewelry box from the bag and his IPod. He was fully prepared to face Cassandra, but instead found Halt and Crowley.

"What are you doing here?" Will demanded. Halt raised his hands innocently.

"Are we not allowed to come visit you?" Halt remarked.

"No, you're not," Will muttered. "What do you want?" Halt pretended not to have heard the question. His eyes fell onto the stapled sheets of paper.

"Is that your poem?" he asked. Will regarded it and nodded. They stood there awkwardly and silently, the cruel, relentless post summer air blanketing them. Sweat broke from Will's face.

"So are you going to get in here or are you going to stand there until we all fry?" Will offered. Crowley and Halt took crooked steps onto the hardwood floor. Will led them into the living room. Crowley's gaze darted to the black case. His mouth spread into a broad, triumphant grin.

"I see you took our advice," Crowley observed. Will's attention shifted down to the case and then back to Crowley. "What did you get her?" Will said nothing; instead he slid his fingers to the creases and pried its mouth open, revealing its precious contents. Halt and Crowley drank in the image and nodded, impressed.

"Nice," Crowley commented. Will studied the necklace for a couple seconds and then closed the case. He was still struck curious as to why they were at his house.

"Why are you here?" Will repeated.

"Cass sent us over," Halt replied. "She said that you've lost your marbles." Will assumed Cassandra meant his nerves were attempting to seize control of his mind. Will wondered why their conversation had to become public news. He would have preferred that his fear remain quiet.

"I'm just nervous that's all," Will excused. "She didn't need to send you over." Halt rolled his eyes. This was too predictable. Will avoided Alyss for two years; his nerves were at fault. Even now, Will was locked in an agonizing stalemate; his shyness was still fortified.

"She thought you might run off," Halt replied plainly. Will stared at him. Halt raised his hands innocently. "Hey, it's her logic, I don't know what goes on inside of her mind."

"I've got an idea of what does," Will grumbled to himself. Halt discarded his remark.

"There's no need to be nervous," he assured. "You've been in love with her for two years, you should be dying to go!" Will felt not what Halt spoke of. His stomach still churned, nauseated.

"What is wrong with you?" Crowley interrogated. "Alyss invited you to go in the first place." That may be so, but it didn't change Will's condition. Two years had a substantial effect on him. Fear ruled his mind; it became almost like the air he breathed whenever Alyss walked the same hallway and occupied the same room as he did. Talking to her would render him weak, lacking strength to get through the rest of the day. If her mere presence had this effect on him, he hated to imagine his state after being by her side for three, maybe four hours.

"I don't know what she'll think when I show up," Will mumbled. The sickening sensation slowly died away, only for its spot to be filled by sadness.

"She'll think 'Oh my gosh! I can't believe he's here!'" Halt assumed. In Will's mind, no girl could, can, or will match her attributes.

"She's the most beautiful girl in the world," Will remarked. "I'm not good enough for her." Halt and Crowley groaned, a frustrating wave crashing down upon them. The temptation to tell him seemed more appealing with every second Will felt the need to protest. Their efforts were useless, nothing would sway his opinion. The doorbell rang once again, interrupting Halt's next words. Will rolled his eyes, wondering what plague had been set upon him this time. Cassandra stood, twisting idly.

_Good one, _Will thought. The clamor of feet echoed off the walls in the foyer. Cassandra took no notice of Halt and Crowley's presence, as if she had never sent them in the first place.

"You ready?" she asked. She gave him no chance to respond before she spotted the flaw in the picture before her. "Where's your bathing suit?" Will's face felt hot. He thrust his IPod, his poem, and the case into Cassandra's surprised hands, and sprinted upstairs. He grabbed his black swimming trunks and thundered downstairs. Cassandra led him to her silver Mazda with Halt and Crowley at their heels.

"We'll meet you at the party!" he called out to them. Crowley leaned over to him.

"Do you even know where Alyss lives?" he asked. Will watched him shake his head.

"No clue," he heard Halt answer. Will snorted and rolled his eyes, sinking down into the passenger seat next to Cassandra. The air in the car on the way to the party was silent. His head felt heavy from the doubts racing through the highways in his mind. All he had done to fulfill his heart's most treasured desire all could have been in vain. Cassandra nudged him, trying to inject positive thoughts into his mind.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. Will sighed deeply, hinting more dismal than an uplifting tone. Cassandra's eyes directed him sympathy; Will had never been so nervous that he sank into depression. She recalled the incident in their sophomore year, a broken attempt of Will's trying to ask Alyss to homecoming. His words had entangled themselves, leaving Alyss draped in a blanket of confusion. Will had sank into a slump for several months and spent much time alone, his mind open to his dejecting thoughts and discouragement. Alyss even took note of this and asked Cassandra and Jenny several times what pulled Will into a state of melancholy. Cassandra watched him, his head staring resting against the window, staring enviously at those they passed, who looked as if they had been blessed with happiness. A new thought struck her. She had named it unimportant for when he came out of his state of cheerlessness, Will exhibited symptoms of a life perfected. But now, he looked like death clung to his back, as if Will were giving it a piggy-back ride. He needed something, no matter how miniscule , to lift his spirits.

"Alyss talked to Jenny and me after the game last night," she began. This peaked Will's interests. He sat upright so fast that his head banged against the ceiling. Cassandra laughed quietly as to not arouse any agitation that lurked inside him. "There he is!" Will flashed her a dirty look.

"What did she say?" he asked. Cassandra smile grew wider, gripping Will's attention by the shoulders.

"She asked if you had a girlfriend and we said you didn't," Cassandra began. "Jenny acted like she was joking and asked Alyss if she liked you." The pace of Will's heartbeat was unparalleled; Cassandra had lulled him back into a sense of intense curiosity. Will stared at her hungrily, depraved of words.

"Well does she?" Will said, shaking as if he were going into some sort of drug withdrawal. Cassandra looked triumphant. Her expression was burdened with adoration, the adoration for which Will and Alyss concealed from one another.

"She didn't really come out and say it," Cassandra pointed out. "But the moment the last word left her mouth, Alyss froze. She started stuttering like a straight 'D' report card and was fidgeting uncontrollably. She retreated back to her friends I guess because the next time I saw her, she was with you." Will could have sung his heart's rejoice. Cassandra ginned and tossed him the chord to hook his IPod up to the speakers. He chose the song _Comatose _by _Skillet _and sat back in his seat, a grin afflicted with admiration.

_I hate feeling like this_

_I'm so tired of trying to fight this_

_I'm asleep and all I dream of_

_Is waking to you!_

They arrived at Alyss' house as the song drew to a close. As Will gathered his belongings, Cassandra's eyes fell upon the black velvet case.

"What's in there?" she asked, pointing at the box. Will smiled and opened the case. The gleam in Cassandra's eyes matched that of the necklace. "Oh, it's beautiful! She's really lucky!" Will closed the box, his heart blushing heavily from the compliment.

"Thanks," Will said, closing the case. Cassandra patted his shoulder and got out of the car. The jewelry box was clear in Will's grasp as he made his way up to Alyss' front door. Her house was two stories like his and Horace's. It had a slight hint of gray paint and several sections were stony bricks. Will rang the doorbell, listening to its cheerful voice announce their arrival. His shock never struck him until he saw who greeted him and Cassandra in the doorway.


	12. Author's Note

**I'm sorry to those I may disappoint, but I may require a short hiatus from the story. It has gradually gotten more painful to write and I need time away to recover. Something occurred and I'm in a really dark place right now. I wish not for the story to be affected, so I will post Chapter 12 and will resume should this die away, but I'm really doubtful.**

**With sincere regrets,**

**Serpentine 11 /3**


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"You must be Will!" greeted a girl who looked to be fourteen. "Alyss talks of you all the time!" Will stared down at her blankly. Her features deeply resembled that of Alyss when she herself was a freshman. It was almost like looking at her reflection. He turned to Cassandra, hoping she would step in. She shrugged away Will's silent pleas. The girl's eyes fell onto the black velvet box that hung loosely in Will's grip. Her eyes glittered which invoked a sense of anarchy within his nerves. If this were Alyss' little sister, which Will assumed she was, then what secrets he kept were in peril. He himself had no siblings, but Jenny complained enough about her little brother that he had an idea of what they were like. The girl extended her hand with no regret. Will stared at it as if he expected it to snap at him. He forced his hand to meet her grasp, which was limp as they shook.

"I'm Moragn, Alyss' sister," she introduced, a bright grin reaching from ear to ear. Her expression looked disturbed, like the face of the band's mascot. Will stepped back cautiously. Cassandra regarded him and snorted.

"I'm Cassandra," she greeted, taking charge of conversation. "May we come in?" Morgan made no verbal answer; instead, she spread her arm, indicating permission of entry. Cassandra beckoned Will forward, who stuttered in his stride. He felt her palm graze the back of his neck. Will lurched forward in surprise. Morgan closed the door behind Cassandra. Will shifted uneasily as he gazed down at the spots of sunlight on the hardwood floor. Well, too late to run now. A middle aged blonde woman descended the staircase, rubbing her hands. She looked like an aged version of Alyss. Will was shocked by the amount of Alyss look-alikes; he began to wonder if there were more to reveal their presences before the real identity showed herself. She smiled brightly at Cassandra and Will, but didn't scare them in contrast to her youngest daughter.

"Oh you must be Will!" She greeted blithely. "I'm Alyss' mother!"

_No kidding, _Will thought. He scanned what he could see, hoping for the slightest sight of Alyss. Subtle giggles emanated behind him, but were pacified when Will turned his attention back to the three girls. All pairs of hands went up to portray false innocence.

"So where's Alyss?" he asked Cassandra smiled, amused; his question was too predictable. Mrs. Mainwaring's eyes drank in the image of the black velvet case that hung loosely in Will's palm. Morgan emitted an almost muted squeal of excitement, perhaps containing a slight hint of adoration.

"She's upstairs getting ready," Morgan answered. As if on cue, a door banged open followed by the sound of feet rushing. Will looked up the stairwell, watching her catch herself before she was lost in the eagerness to see him. She faltered as she laid her gaze down upon him. Will thought his heart skipped a few beats at first sight. Her blonde hair was neatly curled, as if she had just returned from a salon. She wore a purple sweater, blue jeans, pink and white striped socks, and fur slippers. Will watched her descend the staircase, a sense of grace clinging to her. The room felt airless in her presence. She stood between her mother and Cassandra, smiling deeply, but her nervous smile was directed at the floor. Will was no different. Shyness kept his gaze bound to the ground, unable to meet her eyes. His heart felt like lead, his legs turned to jell-o. His lips felt as if they had been glued together, handicapped of speech. A loud knock sedated Will's nerve to speak.

"I'll get it!" Morgan announced brightly. She flashed her sister and Will with admiring smiles and waltzed to the door. Will turned as he heard the creaking of a door opening. There stood Halt and Crowley, two individuals Will least needed to see. Morgan faltered as her stare fell onto Crowley. She brushed her hair back, reminiscent of Alyss' manner. Will snorted; Crowley had no particular interest in a relationship. A fling, if there was any word able to describe it, was more or less of what Crowley had. He never stayed with a girl longer than a month. During that time, their lips would be held together by spit. At rare times, Will wished he was like this. He watched Crowley remain totally oblivious. Morgan extended her hand nervously; Will thought he heard Alyss snort in the background.

"H-hi I'm M-Morgan," she introduced. Crowley shook her hand leisurely and stared silently, waiting for an invitation to come inside. Morgan made no effort to acknowledge Halt's presence. She gestured for him to come inside. Halt nudged Will, greeting him silently. Those watching stared, laughing silently as if this were a TV comedy. "Would you like a drink?" Will turned his gaze back onto Alyss, whose amusement had taken refuge in her mother's shoulder. Crowley thought for a few seconds and shrugged.

"Eh, why not?" he accepted, following Morgan into the kitchen, who sprinted ahead of him. Those who remained in the foyer broke into silent fits of laughter.

"He doesn't even know!" Halt gasped. "How thick can you get?" Will clung to Halt's shoulder for support, howling for air. Alyss finally removed her face from her mother's shoulder. She pretended to wipe a tear from her eye.

"How about that?" she remarked. "She's got a crush." Will laughed again, but was hushed the moment his eyes locked into a sweet gaze with Alyss. Halt coughed, interrupting the silence.

"H-hi Alyss," Will stuttered, nervousness latched to his words. Alyss fidgeted, her heart pounding at the doors of her chest. Will's words hung in his throat, refusing to be vocal. Alyss brushed her hair away from her face, similar to Morgan. She smiled deeply at him. Her eyes darted the jewelry case, then to the stapled sheets of paper. Her heart gave a nervous lurch, her mind paralyzed, incapable of thought. She found it difficult to register that Will had gotten her jewelry, but what words that were scripted on the papers in Will's hands bit at the back of her mind. It was unread piece of literature sitting before her eyes, taunting her, begging for her eyes to pry over its contents. Perhaps it screamed louder considering its topic was the owner of the attention it captured.

"H-hi Will," she greeted back nervously. Both Will's and Alyss' breaths grew numerous and shorter in length. Will studied her, a complement held hostage in his throat.

"You l-look uh…." What strength he had abandoned him. Alyss smiled deeply at him, coaxing him to finish. Will breathed deeply, relaxing the tension of which weighed on his shoulders. "You look absolutely beautiful." Alyss felt her heart melt into a pool of admiration, her mother regarded the two teens, reliving her days in that era. Mr. Mainwaring was her high school sweet heart; she recalled all complements he had made of her appearance in her young beauty, remembering all moments she had rendered him speechless. Like mother, like daughter she assumed. Alyss twisted nonchalantly, searching for the appropriate words, words that would not involve addressing what was in Will's clutches.

"Aw thanks!" she thanked. She overheard Morgan and Crowley in the kitchen, two different personalities conversing. She heard her sister invite him into the living room. An idea struck her. "Hey, Will, I want to show you something." Her eyes looked pleading, hopeful of his acceptance. Will's feet were rooted to the floor, refusing to comply.

"Yes!" he said quickly, catching himself before he let his excitement overcome him. As Will stepped forward, he felt a hand grip his arm. He turned to see Halt staring at him expectantly. This even appeared odd to Cassandra. She regarded him strangely, wondering what bizarre idea he had in mind. Halt remained silent. Instead, he drew a circle with his finger, the tip pointing downwards. Will turned back around, confused. He felt the case and the sheets of paper slip out of his fingers. He faced Halt, protesting silently. Halt beckoned him forward, urging to follow Alyss. Shrugging, Will followed her up the staircase. Alyss led him to a room and stopped outside a plain white door. The smell of pencil lead, cold coffee, and paint filled his nostrils. Alyss opened her mouth, but a shy silence proved to be much too strong. She brushed her hair back, her precious smile daring not to fade from her face. Will couldn't help but smile himself. How could he not? He was with the girl who brought his heart to a pace of which only a cheetah would recognize, who wiped his mind clean of all thoughts so many times that he had grown used to this. She was the first to introduce Will to what became both his friend and enemy, rendering him shy for two long, agonizing years. Shyness was still at his side, increasing the speed and number of his breaths, stuttering his speech like a straight D report card. Alyss was no different. She had never had a boyfriend before in contrast to her friends Delia and Julia. She observed the two girls with their boyfriends in the previous years, absorbing knowledge of how the experience worked. But it was quite different when it was you in the spotlight. She knew all too well that Will has had numerous girlfriends; he knew how the game was supposed to be played. But he always seemed unhappy, as if the slightest detail was missing from the relationship. Nevertheless, the feelings when the two were in each other's presence were mutual.

"I uh, wanted to show you this," she said nervously, the volume of her voice dropping with every word. She indicated the door, invoking a sense of confusion in the back of Will's mind. The smells, perhaps emanating from the room granted Will an assumption, but he'd rather give her the opportunity to show it off. "Mom and Dad were uh, really nice in turning the spare room into like an art room." She turned the doorknob, revealing a rather large room. The walls were dark purple, but little bits of paint and glitter had been splattered all over the wall. There was an easel with an unfinished drawing situated next to a large window, which acted almost as an entire wall, a canvas sat nearby on a stand surrounded by various bottles of paint and a container of glitter. On the other side of the room was a black desk with multi-colored pens, mechanical pencils, erasers, notebook paper, and binders. A lamp sat on its corner, accumulating dust. Next to the papers was a closed Apple laptop. On the other side of the desk was an IPod stereo, playing tracks softly. Alyss retrieved the remote and shut it off. Will drank in the image; finally there was someone else like him, someone shared his love for arts.

"Wow! You are so lucky!" Will complemented, his gaze darting back and forth between the easel and the desk. Alyss smiled deeply at him, cherishing his envy. As society grew more concerned with the latest advances in phones, television, and music, the number that still loved art was shrinking. Will shared her passion, her desires that she wished tirelessly to fulfill. A sheet of paper on the floor, perhaps forgotten, caught the glint in his eye. Will picked it up, his eyes pouring of the title. "'You and Me.'" Before the first word escaped his lips, Alyss snatched it from his gaze, the skin of the paper scraping against his fingers. Will stared at her, wondering what provoked the change of her manner. Alyss' heart was pounding, but relieved that Will read no word of her poem.

"It's not finished," Alyss lied. It was one of her first composures; in fact, it had been completed for a couple years. But its topic was not to be revealed to its subject or those associated with it. Will opened his mouth to say something, but the chiming of the doorbell drowned his voice out. He stared out the window, playing a guessing game with his thoughts as to who had just now arrived. A familiar black corvette sat in the driveway behind Cassandra's Mazda. George and Ashley stood on Alyss' porch, laughing, smiling while hand in hand. Will could see the purple strings of Ashley's bikini tied around her neck. Will turned away, uninterested in the arrival of flirtatious guests. He and Alyss stood in silence for what felt like several minutes, an awkward silence filled the space between them.

"Can I read one of your poems?" Will asked her. Alyss' heart stopped; never before had any boy, especially one of Will's nature, ever requested to read her works. Her mind was blank, her speech was rendered useless.

"Sure!" she accepted brightly, picking up a binder from her desk and handing it to Will. "Take your pick." Will flipped through, scanning the contents of a poem that drew his attention and refused to let go. He found one on what he believed was the 56th page. _A Fragile Dream_, the title written beautifully and the words painted a vivid picture in his mind.

"Should I read it out loud?" Will asked her. Alyss peered through Will's fingers for a glimpse of the poem he picked. Her eyes widened at the title, but resisted the impulse to pull the binder away as well. She nodded, hoping Will's mind would be unable to register the message the words were screaming.

"'Everything to me seems

Just like false dreams

They explain so little

They're fragile and brittle

I don't know if they speak true

Of my thoughts for you

But the message is the same

That had once upon came

Who is the voice inside my head?

Is it the desire that I deemed dead?

That speaks the wish I dread

Just like a book I've already read

What do I see wherever I go?

Is it adoration that faded long ago?

But not completely although

The answer I'll never come to know

As time goes by

This feeling won't die

All my silence

Becomes my grievance

Shyness is my pain

My heart it has slain

I stand in agonizing rain

It's an emotion vain

Whose smile haunts me inside my mind?

Is it a wish that I'll never find?

Eluding me as I stare behind

To another, I have gone blind

Why did this now come to me?

Is it fate that I cannot see?

Such beauty brought me to a knee

But it will not set me free

A prison of my own design

The bars so divine

In this confinement I had sown

A feeling I had never known

I wish shyness was a broken dream

That would die like a moonbeam

But it just seems

Like no one can hear my screams

I wish this was just an illusion

So I breathe without confusion

Such ravishing, lustrous eyes

A joyous smile that never dies

A silent, haunting face

With angelic grace

Such beauty I had never seen

Shyness, such a troublesome glean

Eyes that still now gaze

But our hearts they raze

I will never come to know

Why this timidity will not go

Your gorgeous gaze I see

That won't allow me to flee

A desire that should be dead

Dead from an emotion I dread

But this fragile dream will not vanish

Yet I feel no anguish

Only I can make it true

If I surpass shyness of you.'"

Alyss' heart felt like lead, hoping, pleading silently that Will paid little attention to the purpose of the words, deaf to what they spoke. Will attempted to decipher the code, combing the poem for the key words. Alyss held her breath, hoping for complication, perhaps an object to halt Will's progress. Another drone of the doorbell rang throughout the pipes of the house. Will closed the binder and turned his attention back out the window. Horace was now in the porch, his eyes directed up at the sky. Morgan opened the door, permitting his entry. Alyss regarded Will curiously.

"Who is it?" she asked, hopeful that Will would not return to interpret the message.

"Horace," Will said unenthusiastically. This struck Alyss rather odd. Will would walk the halls of school with what seemed like a vanguard; Horace was always a member. She knew that he and Will were best friends, deeming it strange that Will had not seized the opportunity to join his side. There was another factor, one that was unknown to the pair. Will found himself entranced by her beauty, her soft, silky, curly blonde hair, her dazzling, lustrous smile, and her joyous, angelic personality, one that would never be discouraged. She radiated an aura that only a goddess would be able to do. As religious as Will was, he had to believe that perfection did exist somewhere. Maybe that somewhere was in Alyss' heart. It just had to be; she after all, was God's gift to the world. Alyss was soon locked in a hypnotic trance, his deep brown eyes, his charming smile, and his kindness was the prized feature of them all. Silence was their only company, soundless adoration of one another. Alyss dared not take her eyes away from Will, who mimicked her. They could have remained that way for the rest of the party, but the sound of knocking jarred them back to reality. Alyss cleared her throat, acting as though nothing happened; Will's tongue protruded through his cheek. It looked as if Alyss had forced herself to twist the doorknob, swinging the door open to reveal her younger sister. Morgan peered over her shoulder suspiciously, as if believing Will was hiding something. A smile broke on her face as she returned her gaze onto Alyss. Alyss whipped around, studied Will for a few seconds and then turned back to her sister, asking silently for whatever burdened her mind. Morgan's mouth seemed glued shut, refusing to make a sound. Alyss put her hand against the wall, her lower lip curling with impatience. It looked as if Morgan was piecing together fragments of her statement, the tell-tale signs of a lie visible on her face.

"Mom wants you downstairs," she informed her, beckoning Alyss to leave. Suspicion took hold of her, wondering just what twisted thought possessed her baby sibling. She turned to Will, a pained expression as if it the feeling of deserting his presence was antagonizing. She strode away. Will's heart pulled at her, but was caught on its chain, restricted from the breathless moments that it so deeply cherished. He was frozen, unable to move his limbs. Morgan turned her attention back onto him, waiting for the sound of footsteps pounding on the stairs to die away. An adoring smile crossed her face, the urge to run was almost screaming in the back of his mind.

"I read your poem," she announced, lowering her volume so as not to arouse a distraction from her sister. "Alyss is really lucky to have a guy like you!" Words were unavailable; there were none to come by. Will's heart was pounding, tension boiling to the point where it invoked a sense of anguish. He wondered where his poem had been taken and whose hands it had last been held. A wave of worry engulfed him; perhaps Alyss' eyes were pouring over his soul, reading a secret of which alienated him for two years, begging, pleading to brought to her knowledge. It was his intention for her to read the poem, but now was not the right time. Morgan gestured for him to follow, who trailed after her reluctantly. She slapped a hand into his chest, halting him before he entered the kitchen. He grunted in surprise and stared at her, asking silently the reasoning behind her actions. Morgan said nothing, placing her finger over her mouth, indicating silence. She peered around the corner as though she were a spy hungering for visual information. Though it was a subtle act, should she be caught, suspicion would surely arouse. Will needed not sneak a glance for the exchange of words between Alyss and her mother were painted a vivid scene.

"What do I tell him?" she asked, a sense of urgency clinging to her voice. Instantly, Will's mind was obscured in thoughtless fog, his heartbeat ceased and his supply of air disconnected. Seconds of silence ticked away, probably of her mother thinking and shrugging. "I can hardly talk to him."

"Sweetheart, some moments we can abstain from their control, but then there are those with impulses that no one, no matter the strength of their spirit, are able to resist," her mother replied. "Alyss, sweetheart, at your age, these are common."

"But how shall I know which it is?" Alyss asked, sounding as though she were pleading for answers. Will imagined Mrs. Mainwaring placing her hand on Alyss' cheek, peering deeply into her dazzling gray eyes. Will lost himself in a trance at the thought, at the memories of the times he and Alyss shared sweet gazes with one another. Morgan glanced behind her and aimed a kick at him. Will bit his tongue to keep silent.

"No one can truly know," she answered. "No one but you, for every person, the effect is unique." The air around them went silent. He tapped Morgan lightly on the heel, who nearly threw herself forward in surprise. She glared at Will for the idiotic blunder, but by then the damage had already been done. Alyss regarded her, dumbfounded at her behavior. Morgan straightened up and strode through the kitchen as though nothing had happened.

"Where's Will?" Alyss asked, her tone suggesting that Morgan may have some influence in his absence. Will held his breath, praying desperately that Morgan would dare not befall him just as he had with her. Fortunately, she chose the path of falsehood.

"He should be coming," Morgan lied. Will assumed this as a faint cue. He collected himself and rounded the corner, appearing as though he knew nothing. Alyss rose from the table, her gaze fixed upon the ground. Her mouth coiled into her 'platinum worthy' smile, her hand brushed her soft, silky hair away from her face. Her gray eyes glittered like stars in a midnight sky. She resisted impulses to leap at him, to throw herself into his arms and in doing so, never releasing. These desires tore at her heart, driving her to the point where tears bit at the corner of her eyes, impatient for the moment of which no mortal could resist. Will avoided her gaze so as to keep his mind clear and make decisions out of his own accord instead of whatever mental dictator of which seized control whenever he was hypnotized. He looked around, hoping for a familiar presence to keep his composure, but found none nearby.

"Where is everyone?" he asked. Alyss had no hint as to where the guests hid. She glanced outside her sliding glass doors, checking so as to be sure that nobody was already in the pool.

"I think they're in the living room," her mother answered. Alyss felt thankful for her mother's interference. Will stood rooted to the spot, ignoring the confused stares of Morgan and Mrs. Mainwaring. Against her will, Alyss held out her hand, beckoning Will's touch. Tingling sparks greeted both as their fingers met. Will felt his cheeks burning, reddening like the feathers of a cardinal. There was no contrast, both teens shared the same timid expression, felt the same blazing sensation in the sides of their faces. Alyss gripped his fingers and led Will into the living room, masking her adoring smile. Sure enough, there sat their audience, situated comfortably on her furniture, staring at the twosome as if this were a romance movie. A seat gripped both their attentions in the corner on a black leather couch, positioned next to the amorous couple. Ashley and George paid little attention to the two presences that were now inches away from them. Ashley was curled up in George's lap; her blue eyes staring admiringly back into his green eyes. Her smile was meant for no one else; her heart belonged to none other. George looked happier than Will had ever seen him, even more joyous than when they defeated Miller. A mutual infatuation of which was born during their days in middle school had finally been fulfilled. Knots formed in Will's stomach, nauseating him. He wondered how George seemed so relaxed around her. In George's perception, Ashley played the role that Alyss enacted for Will, the girl gifted with such beauty that shyness would overcome him, render his confidence useless. George and Ashley in contrast to Alyss and Will, seemed amenable around one another, fearing nothing that may drive the other away. They were meant for one another, just as those around believed Alyss and Will were destined to be together. Will felt the burning of multiple stares on the back of his head as Alyss dared not release his fingers. He felt himself sinking into the seat, bringing Alyss down next to him. There was no space between them. Will ignored Cassandra's admiring stares as Alyss settled her head on his shoulder. His face felt hot as if he had been standing exposed to the sun for an extended period. Alyss felt no impulse to move. She felt safe whilst being so close to his presence, close enough to breathe the air that he exhaled. Against his judgment, Will felt his arm drape itself over Alyss' shoulders, holding her close; Alyss removed her head from his shoulder. He wondered if this were a dream for this fantasy was all too common whenever he slumbered. He shifted his gaze onto the T.V. so as for Alyss not to notice his blush. A blush powdered his cheeks, deeming it impossible to keep from smiling. Morgan emerged in the doorway, her eyes first registering the image of Alyss cuddling against Will. She beckoned her mother to her side, pointing the twosome out. Mrs. Mainwaring's heart melted upon first glimpse. One of her few desires was for Alyss to be happy and this was certainly the most blithe she had ever seen her daughter. A memory conserved in the back of her mind would surely decompose slowly; she consulted her phone from her pocket, angling its view as to where it only depicted Will and Alyss. Her actions drew Halt and Horace's attention, but they discarded it. Typical parents, always desiring pictures to cherish the precious moments of their child's life. Morgan made a silent request, her eyes resembling those of a Labrador puppy, whining for attention. She studied the image, a smile slowly spreading across her face. Morgan thought this happiness existed only in the minds of romance novels and movies. But Alyss acted as though she were the protagonist of one. The sweet song of the doorbell rang through the walls of the house, announcing the arrival of perhaps another guest. Alyss shifted subtly into a more comfortable position, her head now resting on his chest. The strength of Will's blush intensified to the point where his cheeks stung from embarrassment. His heart was like a hammer, pounding hard against his chest. The chimes harmonized once more. No one dared relinquish their seat for none possessed a desire to see who had now arrived. Will paid no mind the hymn of the doorbell or the sitcom blaring on the T.V. His mind was fully occupied in battling the shyness that filled his chest. The top of Alyss' head was inches below his nose, a fragrant aroma filling his nostrils. It smelled of coconut, as if she had bathed in coconut milk. Alyss felt the corners of her smile graze the bottom of her ears. The world around her died for the only thing that existed was her caressed in Will's assuaging arms. Her heart screamed for him since their very first day in high school as Will did for her. She was unique in his eyes; he believed other girls, no matter how popular, should aspire to be like her. The doorbell chimed once again, interrupting both teens from their thoughts. This drew even George and Ashley's attentions away from one another. Everyone in the room sat in silence for what felt like five minutes before Morgan rose reluctantly from her seat, miffed that she be the one to answer the door. She stormed from the room, grumbling words Will didn't know nor cared for. He returned his attention back to Alyss. Feminine voices erupting from the foyer, echoing into the living room. Ashley looked at George, hopeful for any clue that he may have; Halt and Horace exchanged glances and directed stares at Alyss. Footsteps reverberated through the kitchen and there materialized three girls in the doorway. Two girls that Will recognized from the previous night. He considered himself blessed that they weren't enveloped in fits of giggles. When his eyes fell upon the third girl, he thought his heart relinquished its beat. Air seemed much more difficult to come by. It was the girl that approached him while searched for Alyss. He shifted uneasily in his seat, averting his gaze to the side, as if the lamp on the table seemed much more appealing. Alyss sprang from her seat and sprinted across the room. She acted as though they were long lost friends despite the fact she saw them the previous night. Excited shrieks drowned the volume of the T.V.; Mrs. Mainwaring turned it off and strode into the kitchen. Halt named this moment appropriate for a joke. He replaced Alyss' empty seat, much closer than what Will was comfortable with. Halt placed his head on Will's shoulder reminiscent of Alyss' manner. Will turned his head and dove from the couch, startled from Halt's behavior. Laughter filled the air around them, but Alyss and her friends dared not take their attentions off of each other. Each one had bikinis in their hands, all three of them sharing bright expressions. The familiar girl looked away and her eyes locked onto Will. Will caught her stare and immediately dropped it to the floor. He prayed silently that she wouldn't choose this moment to come up to him. Will heard Alyss ask: "Do you want to go ahead into the pool?" which was followed by fervid acceptances from the girls. They rushed upstairs as if they were determined to be the first to change. Will turned his attention to Horace who was staring blankly at Will.

"Who's the third girl?" he asked him. "I remember the other two girls sitting with her at the game." Will racked his brains, searching for a name that spoke familiarity.

"I think she said her name was Dalia," Will guessed. A broad grin spread across Horace's face, but Halt had beaten him to the point.

"What do you mean 'she said'?" Halt interrogated. Will looked nervously at the staircase, hopeful that Alyss was nowhere nearby.

"She came onto me," Will retold. "Dalia walked up to me, says hi, introduces herself, and then hands me her phone number."

"Did you ever call her?"

"Why would I?" Horace snorted. Cassandra scooted closer to Horace, hoping to draw his attention, but to no avail. George and Ashley still sat in the corner, flirting silently. They gave no hint of any intention of wishing to join the conversation. They sat in silence, compelling Will to move into the kitchen to escape his boredom. Mrs. Mainwaring stood at the sink, staring out at the pool. She regarded Will and her smile appeared on her face. It resembled that of Alyss' greatly, only a mere aged version. An air of awkwardness was their only company. Words Will intended to say escaped his mind as quickly as they were born. Mrs. Mainwaring cleared her throat, breaking the silence.

"Alyss talks of you all the time!" she announces brightly. Will felt a slight smile cross his expression. His name had been mentioned in the household on numerous occasions and judging from Mrs. Mainwaring's tone, what Alyss says has all been positive. _She Will Be Loved _was playing the back of his mind in a filtered tone. He dropped his gaze to the floor, his confidence dropping. She studied Will's expression. "You look troubled, what's wrong?" Will shrugged, but dared not lift his eyes from the tile.

"I'm just nervous," Will admitted.

"Well, aren't we all nervous for parties?" Mrs. Mainwaring suggested. Will considered her words, but shook his head.

"Yeah, but it's what your daughter does to me," Will retorted. Mrs. Mainwaring straightened, hooked by the sound of Alyss. "I don't know what it is about her, it's just…she's…"

"She haunts you inside your head," Mrs. Mainwaring finished. Will froze, shocked. There was only one place where that line existed. "I read your poem." Will's heart sank. Mrs. Mainwaring's view would certainly be different from her daughter's. The interpretation of the poem would certainly differ based on what eyes pried over its content. He hung his head, ashamed of what he assumed Mrs. Mainwaring might say.

"Ever since we were freshman, the desire to be with her has plagued me," Will admitted, staring at the ground as if there were a bug he'd like to crush. "There's just something about her, for two years, she was the only girl I could ever love." Will wanted to kick himself as soon as the final word escaped his lips. He hoped that Mrs. Mainwaring hadn't caught on, but to no avail. Her eyes widened, but carried a larger sense of cheer than one of surprise.

"Oh!" she swooned. "How sweet! Alyss will die once she hears that!" She started towards the stairs, presenting the impression that she was going to tell her daughter. The strength of his nerves was too much to overcome. Will succumbed to their demands and lunged at Mrs. Mainwaring, catching her shoulder. His request remained unspoken, but his eyes were pleading. She turned to him and felt her mouth twist into a jocular grin.

"Honey, have you ever considered the way she looks at you?" she asked him. Will's grip on her shoulder relaxed, his heart faltering in its beat. This was the third person who utilized this, but the words screamed much louder than those of Cassandra and Jenny. "She's been the slave of shyness since she was little; it's always been difficult for her to verbally express her feelings, even with me." Will stood rooted to the spot, desperate for an answer to the questions running chaotic through his mind. Perhaps she was about to tell him that she drowned in love for him as he did for her. He felt like Romeo from Shakespeare's play, his heart overflowing with love to give, crying out for aheart to share it with. Will hoped that he and Alyss wouldn't end up like the tragic couple. He thought her heard footsteps descending the stairs, but discarded them, deducing them as mere creaks for the sound was too soft.

"I want her to spill her emotions out to me!" Will announced softly, but emphatically. "I want to be her shoulder to cry on, her source of warmth and comfort! I want to be the embrace that holds her when she's scared, ensuring her that I won't let anything hurt her!" He could feel tears stinging in the corner of his eyes, frustrated that it had taken him this long to spew it loud enough for the entire world to hear. He turned away so that Mrs. Mainwaring would not be granted the opportunity to see the tears dropping from his eyelashes. "I just want her to know that despite all the moments that had passed us by that I had loved her all this time!" The random creaks from the stairwell and the foyer died away. Will's cheeks were burning with agony as he strained to keep from crying. Mrs. Mainwaring grasped his wrist lightly, turning him to face her. Instinctively, she pushed his face into her shoulder, patting his neck while he fought the tears desperate to release his eyelashes. Two pairs of footsteps echoed behind him, but Will dared not make his expression visible.

"What's wrong with him?" he heard Horace ask.

"His emotions are finally in the air," Halt deciphered. Horace and Mrs. Mainwaring regarded him strangely, as if Halt were psychic. Will did too, but was too caught up in wiping his eyes.

"How do you know that?" Horace asked, awestruck. Halt stared at him as if the answer should have already been clear. He waved his hand up and down beneath Will's nose, implicating his face.

"Did you not hear what was going on?" Halt quizzed. "Do you not see the tears streaking his face?" Will and Mrs. Mainwaring were more interested in Halt's first question.

"You were eavesdropping this whole time?" Will demanded. "Were standing up against the doorway just out of sight?" Halt shook his head.

"Your voices echoed, Cassandra, George, and Ashley heard it too," Halt answered. "Horace is the only one thickheaded enough not to have noticed." Horace widened his eyes in protest.

"I did too notice!" he argued. "I just felt it unnecessary to pay attention." Halt snorted.

"That explains your English grade," Halt remarked, but his voice put out a much louder volume. Horace scowled.

"Shut up." The creaking in the floorboards reverted, but seemed much closer. Alyss, Delia, Julia, and Dalia rounded the corner, thin shirts over top their bikinis. Will felt his lips cemented together. Alyss' expression fell to an intense blush, her cheeks flushing a bright crimson. Her lustrous smile reappeared on her face, but was directed at the tile floor. Will thought he heard her emit a couple feeble squeaks, but discarded it. He could see Dalia gazing at him, hoping he would notice her. Will looked up as did Alyss and like a moment in a romance movie, locked eyes, refusing to look at anything or anyone else. Will thought he saw a twinkle in her gorgeous gray eyes, her soul trying to pour her emotions through her pupils. Delia and Julia erupted in fits of silent giggles and began whispering to one another. Mrs. Mainwaring cleared her throat, breaking the silence and the intimate stare between the two teens. Horace and Halt were snickering in the background, but ceased their antics when Will turned to glare at them. Mrs. Mainwaring turned Alyss then back to Will, Horace, and Halt.

"So are you going to get into the pool?" she asked them. It felt as if all of Will's limbs had developed minds of their own. Horace nodded and Mrs. Mainwaring gestured to the hall silently, urging them to change into their swimming trunks. Will, who handed his belongings to Halt upon his arrival, stood rooted to the spot, unknowing of what action to take. Horace nudged him in the small of the back, startling him. Halt led them into the foyer where he left Will's poem, IPod, and swimming trunks as well as his own. Will picked them up, studying them as if there was some odd detail, a tampering of some sort. His nerves were tingling; his heart was pounding, drawing all strength in his body. Halt prodded Will, stealing his attention.

"Are you nervous?" he asked Will with the faintest trace of a smile. The lack of answer bemused him, fear that Alyss may overhear. However, Horace with no sense for the feelings of others, blurted out.

"Of course he is!" he announced. Will put his face in his palm; Halt regarded him and glanced nervously into the hallway. "He's in Alyss' house with a poem about his…" Will slapped his hand over Horace's mouth, pacifying his voice.

"Has that skull of yours a few screws loose?" Will demanded in a whisper. "Your voice is echoing and as loud as you're talking, it sounds like a cannon blast!" Horace spoke, his words muffled, perhaps a request for Will to remove his hand. Will did as he assumed.

"Lighten up!" Horace retorted. "I'll bet anything that Alyss is just as nervous, if not, more. She can barely talk around you!"

"And when she does, it's hard to hear," Halt added.

"Don't help him!" Will ordered. He thought of Dalia, how desperate for attention she was seeming. "Besides, it's not about Alyss; well it's mostly her…but…" His words died away as Will's strength left his body. He felt his knee trembling and nearly collapsed, but Horace caught him.

"Steady Will," he encouraged. "What is it then?" Will sighed.

"You know Dalia right?" Will began. Halt and Horace nodded, urging Will to continue with his tale. "What if she tries to come onto me? What if she ruins everything I have with Alyss?" Horace said nothing; instead he looked at Halt as if the answer was lingering on his face.

"We could take her attention off of you," he suggested. His gaze locked onto Halt, watching him as if he were a prized deer he was about to shoot. Halt shook his head.

"Wishful thinking, Horace," he remarked. Horace rolled his eyes, leading Will and Halt up the stairs. He took to the bathroom before they could stop him and locked the door. Will slumped down onto the floor, wondering just what Dalia could do to ruin his life, to transform into a meaningless existence. Halt put his hand on his shoulder.

"Keep your head up," he consoled. "There will be something that will deter her." Will looked up at him, unsure of his statement. His insecurity was brought to life when a girl bolted up the stairwell to face Halt and Will. Will looked up at her and felt his heart stop. Halt felt a nervous chill run down his spine as he stared into Dalia's admiring face peering into Will's eyes.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

_I AM BACK BABY! The dark cloak I've donned has finally been removed and I'm sorry for how long it took. Personal things came up and I had to take time to deal with them. So here is Chapter 13, take the time to read and enjoy! Thank you to all who supported me through these times._

A sharp pain churned in Will's stomach as he stared up at Dalia. His breaths required more effort with each time he exhaled, praying that Horace would come from the bathroom, so he could barricade himself until safety was nothing but guaranteed. Halt cleared his throat in an attempt to shift attention to him, perhaps lifting tension from Will's shoulders. However, Dalia's love struck motives kept her gaze fixed upon Will, acting as though Halt's presence was not around. She brushed her hair back, trying to mimic Alyss. In Will's mind, there was a clear distinction; he knew not the specific detail, but the contrast between the two was all too vague. Dalia was pretty in her own way, but there was no way she had the ability to compete with Alyss.

"Hi Will," she greeted, oblivious to his body language. He winced, as if the sound of being addressed pained him. Halt shifted his feet nervously; he could feel the timid aura Will was radiating. He searched for anything that may seize Dalia's attention, holding it firm for Will to escape, but ended in vain. "I um…didn't e-expect to see you here."

_Of course you didn't, _Will thought. There was no proper response, or at least none that could spare Will the guilt of dampening her spirits. He was not the type of guy who could hurt a girl and feel no sting of remorse afterwards. Almost like a blessing, he heard the doorknob click mixed with the harmony of a flushing toilet. Horace strode from the bathroom, wearing his silver swimming trunks, singing _Adrenaline _by _Shinedown _beneath his breath. He bobbed his head to the side, signaling for someone new. Will regarded Halt as a gesture of politeness. If his personality was slightly different, he would have seized any opportunity to be blunt and would have crushed Dalia's spirit with no remorse. He often wondered if life would be easier to live if he were that way. Horace's eyes drank in the image of a fear stricken Will and an oblivious Dalia, attempting to conceive an idea to steal her attention away from Will, taking it upon himself.

"Hey Dalia," Horace greeted. Similar to Halt, Dalia exhibited no acknowledgement of his presence. Before Will could react, Halt broke free and bolted into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Will consulted his pocket, fumbling for his IPod, only to graze the empty fabric. Will's lips were glued shut, refusing to speak what he so desperately wanted. Dalia locked her fingers together, her bare feet pawing the ground. Will felt a lump in his throat; he prayed that he would not be granted an opportunity to speak to her.

"So uh, what are you doing here?" Dalia asked, tilting her head in a combination of curiosity and admiration. Will went rigid; the glint in her eyes disturbed him, as if she were crazed or impulsively obsessive. If Will was given an opportunity to guess, he would say that she were both. Should Will tell the truth, his words would do the same as spitting in Alyss' face. He couldn't lie for he had no talent for it. Like a blessing, Horace cleared his throat, similar to that of Halt moments ago. Will's breathing grew longer in length, inhaling and exhaling a tone of relief.

"Alyss invited us!" Horace announced. Will's heart sank; so much for a blessing, more like a punishment. He cursed Horace for being so thickheaded. To make matters worse, the bathroom door emitted a loud bang. Will leapt to his feet, startled. This apparently, was a moment Dalia hoped for. She seized the opportunity the moment it presented itself. Her hands wrapped around Will's arm, trying to portray a sense of fear. Will regarded her strangely, tugging his arm out of her grasp. Dalia looked disappointed, but still appeared determined. Halt's voice rang out from other side of the door.

"Horace! Are you not able to lie properly?" Halt scolded. Will was unable to see the crimson flush flooding from Horace's cheeks owing to the fact that his face was buried in his palm. Dalia looked back and forth between Horace and Will, trying to decipher what they could possibly lying about. A silent air was all that existed and Will felt it better this way. If his thoughts remained so, Dalia would be granted no opportunity to ruin what chances he had with her. Dalia cleared her throat, and Will's mind went blank.

"S-so what's the real reason why you're here?" Dalia asked. Her expression and tone resembled that of an interrogating detective. Horace looked to Will as Will did to Horace, both desperate for an answer. A thought of Cassandra flashed in the back of Horace's mind, but he hated to use her in a lie, especially one that could easily dissipate should Dalia go knocking.

"Cassandra and Jenny got invited," Horace sighed, impersonating a personality wishing he were somewhere else. In the deepest, darkest part of his conscious, this was true. He could easily name other places he would rather be, but the fact that Cassandra came to the aid of Will compelled Horace to make his presence present. "And Cass asked if we could come and Alyss accepted." Dalia fixed her eyes on Horace, an unusual light reflecting from her eyes. She studied him as if he were a textbook, combing his words for any flimsiness. Will felt light headed from holding his breath for so long. After a few long, agonizing minutes, Dalia's shoulders relaxed, perhaps deeming Horace's 'tale' bulletproof. Horace and Will exchanged triumphant glances with one another. She opened her mouth to say something, but the wiggling of the doorknob drowned her words. Halt strode from the bathroom, acting as if nothing were odd. From Will's perspective, this could be conceived as a blessing from above. He grabbed his black swimming trunks and made haste into the bathroom. He shut the door and locked it, as though Dalia was a bloodthirsty beast trying to disembowel him. Both Halt and Horace spent extended periods of time changing; Will debated whether or not he should imitate them. He shuffled around so as not to arouse suspicion. His ears perked up at the sound of Halt speaking.

"So Dalia, why aren't you down with the birthday girl?" Will went rigid; he only hoped Halt and Horace had enough sense to keep his infatuation in the dark. He imagined Dalia's lips pursed, her hand pushing her body at the hip, staring at Halt as if the answer was obvious.

"Oh they can get along without me," she excused. Will could feel her eyes burning a hole through the bathroom door. "Besides, the cutest and sweetest guy prefers a girl with confidence so here I am." Nausea usurped his stomach, sickening him to the point where he felt like vomiting. He thought he heard Horace snickering to himself, but failing to remain inconspicuous.

"You're very flattering Dalia," Halt mused. "I must say that you are absolutely breathtaking." Will too, found it arduous to keep his amusement unknown to others. Horace had completely abandoned his cause and was roaring with laughter. A loud grunt emanated, which was probably Halt elbowing the thickheaded behemoth, silently ordering him to subdue his hilarity.

"You silver tongue devil," Dalia commented. "But it is not your charm I speak of." Will rolled his eyes, Halt's attempt to assuage her crashing and burning.

"Well Dalia, I thank you," Horace chimed. Sincerity left her voice as she directed her attention onto Horace.

"Don't adulate yourself Horace," she remarked. There was nothing to sway her attention from Will, certainly not by the likes of ignorant sots of Horace and Halt's stature. Just as Will pulled down his shorts, Horace's words retracted Will's focus.

"You know, Will has a girlfriend." Will kicked his shorts aside, his hand striking the door to keep Horace from doing any further damage.

"No I don't!" he protested. He quickly changed pulled the whipped the door open, silencing Horace's next choice of words. Dalia brushed her brown hair back, blushing deeply. Before more harm could be done, Will descended the staircase, tossing his shorts in the corner. He retrieved his IPod, desperate to escape the shackles of conversation and the company of Halt, Horace, and Dalia. Alyss and her friends could be heard giggling from the living room, Morgan was flirting with Crowley at the kitchen table, and George and Ashley were cuddling in a patio chair. If Alyss or Mrs. Mainwaring knew, they probably decided that they would burn the chair later. The shuffling of footsteps in the foyer drove an impulse into Will's mind. He shoved his headphones into his ears and chose the loudest song he had. _We Stitch These Wounds _by _Black Veil Brides _exploded through his headphones, drawing even Morgan and Crowley's attentions. He strode into the living room, acting as though no one else around. He slumped down in the couch, losing himself in the head banging void. His head drooped, regretting the remaining hours he was to spend in Alyss' house of torture. Cassandra rose from her seat and proceeded into the kitchen to the foyer to retrieve her bikini. Horace and Halt entered, looking desperate and slightly winded, as if they had been sprinting. Dalia trailed behind them, her eyes glowing slightly brighter as her gaze fell upon Will. Alyss took notice and giggled, succumbing to the façade Dalia portrayed. Halt and Horace shared pleading looks with one another and directed both of their stares at Will, who paid them no mind. Dalia scampered over to the couch where Will sat and threw herself at his side, careful of the amount of empty space between the two of them. She scooted closer, flashing her prized smile at him. Will remained cautious, keeping his gaze fixed upon the carpet, as if he were counting the fibers. Her brown hair was dangling, grazing his shoulder. He moved to the point where he was practically hugging the armrest, praying Dalia would grasp the hint. He only hoped that Alyss' friends could occupy her attention long enough for Will to shrug away from Dalia's star-crossed clutches. Horace filled Cassandra's vacant seat adjacent to Alyss and her giggling companions. Halt stood in the doorway, his eyes drinking in the sight of Dalia cuddling an averse Will. Distaste was heavy in his mind, this girl clearly only cared for what her heart screamed for and everyone else's needs should be second. He watched Alyss' eyes dart sideways several times, but not in Will's direction. Halt grew nervous; if she turned to sneak a glimpse of him, Will's heart would surely shatter. Alyss would deem her adoration for him corrupted and would abandon them in desolation all for an untrue assumption.

"Will, I need to talk to you," he announced, hoping his voice ripped through the demented wails of his music. The miniscule hint of a voice pulled Will's gaze upward and positioned his view in Halt's direction. He didn't remember getting up and walking up to Halt, but was obliged. Dalia went rigid; how dare Halt steal Will from her side. Her lower lip curled distastefully, her determination undeterred. She vowed that Will's hand would be the one she clasped by the end of the night. Halt beckoned Will to follow him into the kitchen where Morgan pressed her efforts on an oblivious Crowley. "You've got to stay away from her!"

"You speak as though I'm following her around like a puppy," Will remarked. "Do you think I like her being that close?" This drew Morgan's and Crowley's attentions away from one another, gluing them upon himself.

"Who don't you like being that close?" Crowley interrogated. The first name to become clear in Morgan's mind was her sister, but Will seemed to cherish her presence being so close to him. She then remembered Dalia hurrying through the kitchen as though she were late for something.

"Dalia's persistent, she's completely different from any girl I've met," Will complained. Halt coughed; it sounded as though he blurted out a name whilst his hacking. Will regarded him strangely. Morgan reeled her attention back onto an unwitting Crowley.

"Not to be an opposition," Halt began. "But those words are twins to those when you were swooning over Alyss."

"But their meanings aren't parallel," Will retorted. He glanced nervously into the living room, heeding the sound of Alyss giggling, and felt the wave of seething impatience from Dalia. "Dalia's obsessive, avaricious, and deranged. She's addictive to a drug she could never have." Halt's tongue protruded through his cheek, Crowley's gaze was drinking in the image of the table, and Morgan was staring at ravenously, as she was depraved of the nourishment his words granted her. Admirable thoughts flooded into his mind, seizing control and left him swaying on the spot. He believed he was walking through a fantasy, deeming it impossible to actually be in Alyss' home. "Alyss' aspects counter Dalia's personality. No rapacious word has ever escaped her lips, no distasteful sparks have ever shot from his eyes, and no frown has ever replaced her captivating smile. There is no other heart as precious as hers. Her beauty is radiant, like the style of a goddess." An adulating smile was visible behind Morgan's hands; the giggling in the living room morphed into breathless silence. Halt mocked wiping a tear from his eye, an adroit smile crossing his face. This was typical of Will to profess his heart, but was astonishing that he finally possessed the ability to do so when Alyss could eavesdrop with no suspicion. Horace strode into the kitchen, scratching his head, his lips pursed. Halt cocked his head sideways, feigning curiosity. This reminded Will of Ebony in times when certain details seemed odd in her eyes. Horace looked as if he had been pondering; Will wondered how much effort Horace exuded to keep from passing out.

"Some thoughts are better expressed quietly," he muttered.

"What do you mean?" Will asked.

"Are you deaf?" Horace asked rhetorically. "You were loud enough to rouse the dead from their graves!" Will's heart sank; his gaze was pulled to the floor in a shameful fall.

"Please tell me Alyss didn't hear me." Horace rolled his eyes, surprised Will had the nerve to ask.

"Did you not hear what I said?" he catechized. Will stared at him, still waiting for a clear answer to pass Horace's lips. Horace let out a weary groan and sighed. "Of course she heard you! She was peering around the corner during your ranting!" Halt snorted; attracting both Will's and Horace's attentions as if he were a magnet.

"Such colorful vocabulary," Halt remarked. "Such large and imposing words for an English grade that sounds like a stutter." Will was choking from the discipline to keep from laughing; Horace's face deeply resembled that of the skin of an apple.

"You try defining Shakespeare's word choice," Horace excused. "His stories drown from all thy's and thee's and hath's."

"The simplest of ancient English language stumps the greatest defensive player to walk the halls of Meadow Ridge High School," Halt remarked. "You can diagnose the direction of an offensive play before it even happens, yet the idea of the most elementary of literary pieces leaves you dumbstruck."

"Oh shut up Halt," Horace cracked. Halt snorted. "Besides, I was talking about Will confessing his heart at a volume the entire world could hear." Morgan, irritated by the disturbances faulted by Will, Halt, and Horace, grabbed Crowley's hand and led him into the foyer, fuming silently about how rude some people can be. Halt shook his head, unsurprised at Crowley's reaction. Will paid them no mind. With the insight Horace gave him, he felt as if hiding was essential. She wasn't at his side, asseverating a mutual adoration that burned in her chest as it had in his. A wave of cold depression came over Will, dampening every bright thought prancing in his mind. Footsteps in foyer echoed, amplifying as they drew closer. Cassandra paced into the kitchen, a towel draped over her shoulder and her phone clutched in her hand. Her eyes first fell onto Horace, a swift glance of adoration, and then darted onto Will. She rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

"Don't tell me he's depressed again," she complained. A slight emphasis hung on her final word. Halt gazed at him, as if he were reading a book. Will turned away, keeping his face hidden so as Halt would be unable to read his emotions.

"Perhaps he wouldn't be if Horace stayed quiet," Halt remarked, flashing Horace a reproachful glare. Horace held his hands up in protest.

"What did I do?" he demanded. "All I said is that Will spoke loud enough to wake the dead from their slumber."

"It may have just been a passing thought," Halt pointed out. "But it wouldn't have been born if you kept your lips glued together."

"Says the guy who…" Cassandra's irritability took her. She stepped in between them, striking both boys in the chest. Horace exhibited no reaction, but Halt emitted a sudden grunt of surprise.

"Do you two ever stop?" she scolded. Horace opened his mouth to argue, but the menacing scowl on Cassandra's face forced him to reconsider. "Every time I turn around, you two start going at each other!" Will trudged back into the living room, stealing Cassandra's focus. "Where's he going?" Halt shrugged.

"Probably looking to drown his sorrows in the alcohol of head banging symphonies," Halt remarked. Will dragged himself across, ignoring the gazes of Delia, Julia, and Alyss and sank grimly into the couch. He consulted his IPod, pushing the headphones into his ears, hoping to drown his mind in relentless rock music. He selected _Whispers in the Dark _by _Skillet, _watching Alyss converse unknown words with her friends, flashing glances back at Will. Dalia looked conflicted, wondering if it were safe to occupy Will's side. He paid no mind to the lyrics for they spoke very little motivation. Alyss rose from her seat, crossed the threshold and plopped herself down at beside Will. She was talented at spotting cheerless flaws for there were none that was allowed to knock on her doorstep. She tapped him lightly on the shoulder, requesting his attention. Will unwillingly pulled his headphones from his ears, but refused to meet her sweet gaze. He could see sparks shooting from Dalia's eyes from the corner of his view. Alyss laid her head down on his shoulder, coaxing him to look at her. As if an invisible hand had pulled him, he turned his head. Will found himself locked in a sweet gaze with a girl he cherished, thirsting for the idea that she was his and he was hers. She said nothing; instead, she put her arm around his neck, pulling his face to her shoulder, stroking his hair. It seemed as if Dalia was having a fit, fighting back the tears before they tasted the air. Cassandra tailed Halt and Horace as they walked back into the living room. Halt looked over at Dalia, a triumphant smile crossing his face. He did admire her self control however, as she rose from her seat, walked plainly into the kitchen. Cassandra made no effort to register her absence as her eyes drank in the image of Will's face pressed against Alyss' shoulder. Alyss paid them no mind for she had what she hungered for in her arms, seeking comfort. She allowed him freedom, removing her arm from his neck, staring adoringly back into his brown eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked assuredly. Will nodded apprehensively. Alyss felt her smile reach the bottoms of her ears. Will fell into a familiar trance, losing touch of what was occurring around them. His only sight was her beautiful, radiant smile. He felt his head tilting slightly until a loud snap in his ear startled him. He jumped, turning to glare at Horace. Mrs. Mainwaring entered the room, burdened with a sense of elegance that Alyss seemed to have inherited. Her eyes studied her company in the room, taking note of the bathing suits beneath their clothing.

"So are you going to get in the pool?" she asked. "Or are bathing suits beneath your clothes a new fashion statement?" Alyss snorted at the typicality of her mother's sarcasm. Her eyes widened in forgetful nature. She dashed upstairs without uttering a word, abandoning Will in a temporary state of curiosity. He glanced at Cassandra, hopeful that she may speak the answer to Alyss' madness, only for it to be crushed. Horace stared at her, his mouth moving in silent rhythm. His gaze was fixed on Cassandra; Will considered her blessed that Horace had not been gifted with heat vision. Julia and Delia had their attentions focused on Halt, debating in whispers, erupting in soundless fits of giggles. Morgan came back into the room, lugging Crowley behind her by the hand. Red fluffs coated her cheeks; a bright grin was spreading across her face. Crowley lips were puckered as if he were kissing the air. Alyss thundered down the stairs, clutching her IPod speakers in one hand while balancing her IPod in between her fingers. She faltered down the final steps as her sweet gaze fell upon Will. Will felt his heart stop; his breaths grew shorter in length and more numerous. He wondered how long he should feel this reaction whenever his eyes kneeled in the image of a mortal goddess. Mrs. Mainwaring coughed, startling them. She beckoned them into the kitchen towards the patent glass doors. Alyss' backyard was more than capable of holding another house if a crescent shaped pool didn't take up half the area. Its perimeter was concrete and curved with its shadow. Cushioned pool couches and chairs lined the edge, inviting those who laid their stares upon their frame to sit in their comforting laps. Fake palm trees were situated on the farthest side, obscuring what treasures lay behind their thick trunks from sight. A polished wooden table sat in the shade beneath an umbrella in the company of a couple of cushioned pool chairs. Around the concrete was some of the greenest grass Will had ever seen, except for a small portion in an area near the doorway where a dozen types of flowers bloomed blithely, their scents exploding from their bright petals. Alyss and Will chose seats nearest the table, settling their towels so as they lay with no wrinkle. Every so often, one would shoot an unbeknownst admiring glance towards the other. Horace and Cassandra chose a cluster of chairs near the palm trees next to Halt, who seemed to be either ignoring or oblivious to the hungry stares of Delia and Julia. George and Ashley chose a couch separate from the rest of the guests in the hopes of no disturbances. However, with the unpredictability of Horace and Halt's intentions, that prayer is just as good unspoken. Will snorted with that happy thought. His fingers grabbed the hem of his shirt, but hesitated in Alyss' presence. Ordinarily, Will didn't stutter in the process of removing his shirt, especially if there was girl around. But Alyss was so much different from other girls! What would she think of him should he do so with her so close? Should he swim with his shirt on the entire time? No, that would be a major discomfort. Alyss pulled her shirt over her head, her silky blonde hair tumbling down her shoulders. She then pulled her shorts down past her ankles, revealing a blue topped, and black bottomed bikini. Will swore he had swallowed his tongue. He exerted a considerable amount of effort to pull his gaze away from Alyss. She stared at him after she stashed her garments next to the arm of her chair, as if she were waiting for his opinion. Even if this were the case, Will would be unable to give her one, his incompetence to speak being at fault.

"Are you going to swim like that?" she asked. Will jumped, stunned from her address. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but it was although someone has super glued his lips together. Instead, he shook his head. Alyss smiled as an assumption crossed her mind. "Oh Will! Are you shy of taking your shirt off in front of a girl?" He wondered if there was any proper answer. She was openly mocking his shyness and he felt slightly affronted. Nevertheless, Will indulged her subtle request. With his hands trembling, he pulled his shirt over his head, feeling a gust of wind blow against his bare skin. Will's built body acted as a magnet to Alyss' stare, watching him flex his chest slightly, his rock hard abs bulging. Will was careful to avoid her lustrous gray eyes should any criticism be born in her head. Although he was turned away, he could feel her smile burning a hole in the back of his head. He hated the waves of impulse that flooded his brain, forcing him to turn and face her. His stare was pulled upward until she locked him in a beautiful, radiant, trance-like prison. He felt slightly unbalanced just as he had earlier, only there was no Horace to snap his fingers next to his ear. Alyss' hands held one another, desperate for the touch of the other, their fingers locking as she twisted and turned nonchalantly. They would have stayed that way, perhaps the remainder of the party if Halt hadn't gotten the idea of splashing Will with freezing water. He didn't remember leaving the table, only that he was now inches from the edge of the pool.

"Hey! Are you two going to act like you're in a romance movie all day?" He demanded. "Or are you actually going to get in swim?" Alyss appeared obliged to resist Halt's inquiry, but Will knew better; he was going into the water whether it was voluntarily or with help. He crept slowly up to the edge, staring down at Halt so as to be sure he wouldn't try anything shifty. The moment Will deemed appropriate to dive in was the moment a shove had saved him a couple of seconds. He came up to the surface, slightly gasping and wiping water from his eyes.

"Horace!" he cried out angrily, whipping around in confusion.

"What?" he replied in a tone of convincing innocence. His voice didn't seem to have rang out from behind him. Will opened his eyes to see Cassandra and Horace next to the ladder, engaged in flirtatious conversation. He turned around to see Alyss attempting to portray a lack of innocence. But her devious smile was her tell-tale detail as she shrugged and laughed. Will couldn't help but laugh back.

_She is so beautiful, _his mind swooned. He just had to overcome his shyness with her or else all of his work would have been in vain. Or else, his life would lose its meaning. Alyss scooped her IPod from her chair and plugged it into her speakers. The words in the titles of songs were a blur at Will's distance, but the erupting sound was loud and clear. She had chosen the song _Bad Romance _by _Halestorm, _which colored Will dumbstruck. He never knew that Alyss was into rock music just as he was, especially with her sense of elegance, grace, and perfection. This was just another detail to make him love her ever so much more. With this cheering thought, Alyss took a running start and dove into the pool at Will's side, much closer than a friend would normally be.

_Review please! Chapter 14 has been a real pain to write and I need everyone's help I can get._


	15. Author's Note 2

Just so all of you know, I haven't disappeared, I just appear under a new screen name. It was going to be 'BVBArmy4ever' was taken, so I used GothicShadows21 instead. Black Veil Brides are absolutely the best band ever...next to Sleeping with Sirens and Evanescence of course. Idk if they'll let me change my screen name. Btw, i'm sorry for completely stopping the fanfic, 'Angellic', I've been trying to write the chapter, but I've had final exams and plenty of projects to distract me along with writing an actual book from this fanfic. I love you all who supported me, I've been going through a lot of things, like losing a girlfriend, the death of my grandmother, and the stress of school...(THANK GOD WE'RE ON SUMMER VACATION!). And for all of you who have been dying for Chapter 14 to come out, I'm working on it, I hope to have it out by either Sunday or Monday!

Love you all!

GothicShadows21 (formerly Serpentine11)


	16. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

_Hey, sorry it took so long to finish this. I've had writer's block and it was towards the end of school when I started. Plus, I've been depression and anxiety due to the amount of change going on at the time. But I'm thankful for my gf Emily, who convinced me to stay on the fanfic and all the die hard 'Angelic' fans who kept me going. Love y'all! _

Alyss floated back up to the top, wiping the water from her eyelids and pushed her drenched hair back. Its blondeness was now no more, replaced by a dripping, light brown sheet. He had grown close to the sight of her and her silver sheet of silky hair for it seemed like the perfect pair. No other color hair seemed fit for her personality. Just as she opened her eyes, Will splashed her playfully. She shrieked and giggled, throwing her hand as a shield. She felt comfortable with him so close, as if nothing that the devil could dream would ever bring her harm. Though it was her birthday, it was her nature to believe her most cherished wish would never be granted. Even if by some strange disruption in the vortex that this were the case, Will would probably only do so out of pity, not for a mutual feeling. Her smile melted away into the small churning waves of the pool. Though its motion was oblivious to Will, it was not to Halt. He wasn't a therapist, though it was desire to become one, but it was clear that she was conflicted by adverse thoughts, especially when the definition of Halestorm's lyrics was all but motivational. Halt swam over, stealing the attention of both Alyss and Will.

"Excuse me Alyss, I need to borrow Will," Halt interrupted, his grip digging into the flesh of Will's shoulder. Will bit his lip to keep from yelling out in pain. Before Alyss could give her consent, Halt yanked Will behind him by the arm, dragging him to secluded section near the palm trees. Horace and Crowley were leaning against the wall, boredom seizing control of their brains. George was at their side as well, but not propped against the wall. Ashley was situated comfortably on his back, her arms relaxed around his neck and her legs straddling his torso.

"What is this?" Will demanded, pulling his arm away from Halt's controlling grip. "An intervention?" Halt held his hand out, silently begging Will to speak in a more muted tone.

"We don't need them to hear us," he argued. His expression hardened, twinges of seriousness slowly becoming much more crucial to express. "Do you not see her?" Will thought Halt was referring to Ashley, but her expression gave no sign of offense. He glanced at Alyss to make sure the distance between them had not decreased.

"See who?"

"Don't play dumb!" Halt growled. Will spread his arms in protest.

"You aren't telling me anything!" Will retorted. "Who are you talking about?" Halt said nothing. Instead he pursed his lips and pointed at Alyss, who was sitting at the edge, staring blankly down at the water. Delia and Julia shared concerned glances with one another and swam to her side, wordlessly asking what burdened her mind.

"She's making every effort to show she likes you!" Halt emphasized. "The only way this could be clearer is if she came out and told you." Will wished the minds of girls functioned that way. Since the birth of Will's love life, he had been gifted with the labor of deciphering the secluded adoring thoughts of any girl. The effort it took to probe one, perhaps life changing secret was exhausted.

"What gives you that idea?" Will protested. "The only thing she's done is turn on music and jump in the pool." Halt and Horace groaned in exasperation, George rolled his eyes, and Crowley's lips were pursed. This was typical Will, always drowning in the darkest assumptions of situations, especially with one of this nature.

"Your observations are horrid for a running back of your skill," George remarked.

"As long as I've known her, she has never exhibited any taste in rock music," Halt added. "That ought to be her tell tale heart!" Will wasn't so sure. Halt may have known her longer than he has, but he couldn't possibly have known her entire repertoire of preferences. Perhaps she was able to stomach a morsel of rock.

"That doesn't say anything!" Will excused. Halt moaned, displeased at Will's stubborn mind; he always had a pleasure in disproving visual perceptions that were more than likely to be screaming the truth. "She and I are just friends…and that's all we'll ever be." His tone hinted an accent more hurt than protesting.

"If any word of that was true, then I'm a pumpkin," Horace commented. "It's impossible for you two be 'just friends'." His fingers indicated air quotes. "Because of the way you act around her and vice versa." Will's mind was spinning; his thoughts were fusing with others, twisting reality with simple opinions. Will had known girls on several occasions that acted over affectionate and their only wish was to remain friends. He hoped with all the bits of strength in his heart that his wasn't one of those cases, but things never occurred the way he wants.

"Will, if you don't take it from Horace, take it from me," George suggested. Will considered this; George's word was certainly more reliable than Horace's. It wasn't that Horace engaged his tongue in nothing but falsehood, but he had a tendency to act in a joking manner. Not all words that escaped his lips were true. George beckoned Ashley to his side, which appeared at beside him so fast that Will almost believed George had pulled her there.

"What?" she asked, her eyes glittering as she stared back at him.

"How long did you like me?" George asked her. At first, she looked dumbstruck; seeming odd that George would ask this of her with no regard that his friends were there. Her gaze grazed over Will and suddenly the reasoning was now clear, as if someone had just preached it to her.

"Since the sixth grade," she answered composedly. Her stare was pulled back onto Will like a magnet, but retreated back to George. "Why?" Will rolled his eyes; he wondered how long he was to endure their conjectures. He felt his neck twisting against his restraint, depraved, desperate for a glimpse of Alyss' radiant beauty. He could never figure out how anyone was able to bear the burden of her rank of elegance. His head tilted, immersing himself in the sight of her, a trance. Faint voices could be heard in the background, lecturing and gradually evolving into a tone of irritation. A slight shove whipped his head forward, snapping Will out of the trance. Will whirled around, fuming. George's arms were outspread, carrying disbelief on his shoulders.

"You didn't hear a word I said did you?" George interrogated. Will shook his head; the truth, though hurtful, was the only thing he was able to speak for he possessed no talent of falsehood. George rolled his eyes, but caught himself before he succumbed to his exasperation. "I'm just saying that she gave me subtle hints and it took me five years to realize that she liked me all this time." He peered over Will's shoulder at Alyss, as if expecting her to be merely inches behind Will. "Don't make the same mistake I did." Will felt his face burn from embarrassment. There was no other girl that had even a similar affect that Alyss had on him, compelling Will to love her with every fiber of his being. The amount of strength he could muster to talk to her drained him, leaving him so weak that it felt as if he had run twenty miles. From that particular experience, that fatigue was not worthy to be compared to that of battling through his shyness. Ashley sighed and whispered something to George. He mouthed unknown words back to her. She pushed herself out of the pool and beckoned Will to follow her. Will looked at George, praying for an answer, only for his response to come in a silent shrug. He climbed up onto the concrete, retracing Ashley's steps to where she and George sat. Her phone was in her hand, her fingers tapping the screen rapidly.

"Will…Alyss likes you," Ashley announced. "Since everyone wants to be complicated about it, I'm not. Alyss is head over heels in love with you." Will's heart was soaring, but a small glint of doubt was flickering in the back of his mind.

"What makes you say that?" he asked. Ashley groaned in exasperation and buried her face in her hands.

"Why do you have to make everything more difficult than it needs to be?!" she exclaimed. Everyone around us turned to look at them. "You need to wake up! Study the way she looks at you. She loves you, she adores you. She's playing heavy metal music for god's sake! Music with apparently dirty lyrics." She wrinkled her nose at Halestorm's words. Will understood her; as long as he's listened to them, Halestorm's songs are always sexually driven.

"That…" Ashley jabbed Will hard in his sore ribs before he could finish his sentence.

"Means she's in love with you!" Ashley ranted. "How many times do I have to say that until you get it through that thick skull of yours?" She jabbed his skull with her index finger.

"Oh come on!" Will protested. "If she was in love with me, wouldn't she have said something by now?" Ashley rolled her eyes and shook her head.

_Typical, clueless Will_, she thought. At this point, the only thing that would convince him was hearing it out Alyss' own mouth, the mouth he so desired to be the one that kissed it.

"Will, she's even shyer than you," Ashley explained. "She has a harder time completing a sentence without suffocating when you two are around each other. And come on, Halestorm? That's a dead giveaway!"

"Lots of girls like rock!" Will protested. Ashley shook her head once more and punched Will's arm rather hard. "Ow! What's that for?" She discarded his question and went on to contradict him.

"Not girls like Alyss," Ashley fought back. "If she's as obsessed with the arts as you say she is, then artists as, er, suggestive as Halestorm, are not high on her list of 'favorite singers'. Or at least not without some sort of motivation." Will stared confusedly at her. He glanced over his shoulder at Alyss, who was whispering with her two friends, occasionally bursting into a fit of giggles.

"What do you think she's talking about?" he asked curiously, edging towards the side of the pool, as if he magically acquired hearing of the same talent as an owl. Ashley peered over him and studied Alyss for a few seconds, then shrugged.

"Oh gee, I don't know," she replied sarcastically. "The love of her life is here at her birthday party; shirtless I should add, and his favorite genre of music is exploding through the loudspeakers; maybe she's talking about the stock market!" She gazed at Will, silently demanding that he be somewhat practical. With Alyss hypnotizing him every second, being practical was second to not seeming like an idiot.

_Too late_, Will thought.

"Why don't you go find out?" Ashley suggested. "I'm sure she won't mind Will Treaty pulling her away from her friends." She added emphasis to his name. She pushed him into the pool before he had a chance to ponder over anything. Will glared back at Ashley, who was trying hard not to laugh.

Horace and George were over in the corner wrestling; Ashley leapt into the pool and joined Cassandra, whispering unknown aspects to each other, leaving Will to stare at Alyss some more. She truly was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. The way her blonde hair seemed to tumble gracefully down her back entranced him. Her gray eyes glittered whenever she saw him wiped his mind clean.

Alyss looked over at Will for a split second, and then turned her full attention onto him. Will's heart skipped a beat, his mind went fuzzy and all of his thoughts were deemed no more. She waved at him, beckoning him to her. Despite his initial decision, it felt as if invisible hands were dragging him through the water, guiding him towards the girl he's adored since his freshman year. He staggered when he finally reached her, balancing only when his back scraped against the concrete.

"Hi," she greeted, her angelic smile upon her face. She brushed a strand of hair from her face, revealing the other half of her gray eyes. Will choked as he tried to greet her back; she giggled at his foolishness, deeming it cute rather than weird or unattractive.

"H-hi," he managed to say. Alyss floated closer to him; she brushed a dripping strand of hair from her face. Will felt his heart work itself up to the bottom of his throat. He swallowed hard as he gazed deep into her sparkling gray eyes. Diamonds were nowhere near as perfect as her eyes. "F-fun party." Alyss smiled deeply at Will.

"Th-thanks," she replied. "I-It meant a lot to me that you…came." Will's heart was a feather, fluttering on the gently blowing wind. He opened his mouth, but his voice refused to work. Alyss giggled slightly, but not so; Will's mind went blank. In his mind, she literally had the sweetest giggle. And the most lustrous eyes. And the most gorgeous smile.

_OH MY GOD!_

"Will?" Alyss asked. Will jumped, his heart racing. Alyss stared bewilderedly at him. She was dying right now; she wanted to know what thought Will's mind had clung to, what was so interesting about it that it pulled it away from her. "Are you okay?" The words hung in Will's throat. He nodded his head for the words had run into a traffic jam in his throat.

"I um…I just…" He stopped himself.

_Good job with the stutter, 'Love Doctor'_, he thought bitterly. Alyss smiled at him; she made a motion to step towards him, but developed cold feet and retracted, fearing that he may catch on. When it came to Alyss, Will was completely blind, oblivious to every signal that had been thrown his way. If it wasn't for the fact that he actually showed up to her birthday party, she would have given up a long time ago. But it's Will Treaty! At her birthday party! This was every girl's fantasy! Or at least every girl at Meadow Ridge anyways.

"Just what?" Alyss asked, trying to help. Will gulped, mentally kicking himself for chickening out. If anything, her voice had just made it even more difficult to say what he was going to say.

"I um…I wouldn't m-miss this," Will stammered. Alyss' cheeks burned intensely, she swore she had just felt her heart melt. Her gorgeous smile crept onto her face, hypnotizing him.

"Aw, you're sweet," Alyss swooned. "Really? This is nothing!" Will huffed, a bit of confidence filling his chest.

"Alyss, I'd miss every UGA game to come to your party," he said. Alyss felt like she was part of the water. She took a step towards Will; she could feel her breath bouncing off of Will's chest and back onto her. Will stared into her deep, perfect gray eyes, trying desperately to slow down his breathing. He could feel everyone's stares fixed on them, not daring to remove their focus.

"Pizza's here!" Mrs. Mainwaring called. Will and Alyss jumped away from each other, both of them biting their lower lip. Mrs. Mainwaring strode through the sliding glass door, carrying four boxes of pizza. The scent was intoxicating, so overwhelming that the pool had cleared in less than five seconds.

Horace clapped Will hard on the back, nearly knocking the air right out of him.

"You ready?" he asked, ripping off a large chunk of his pizza. Will stared at him confusedly; he rubbed the sides of his mouth with his slice, too distracted with Horace to actually get it into his mouth. Horace laughed and threw a couple more slices onto his plate.

"For what?" Will demanded, wiping his mouth with a nearby napkin. Horace's expression turned devious, making Will's stomach churn nervously. Nothing good could come of this.

"You'll see!" Horace avoided, a mischievous grin on his face. Will's eyes widened, amusing Horace. He took his pizza and sat next to Alyss on a cushioned couch. Alyss looked at him and smiled shyly.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, watching people slip into the pool and splash each other in the face. Horace and Cassandra eventually got bored enough and disappeared behind the fake palm trees.

"You're party is freaking amazing!" Will complemented, ignoring the rapid beat of his heart. Alyss' smile brightened; she scooted closer to him. A wave of comfort came over her with him being this close to her. Will felt as if air supply had been cut off. He had the most beautiful girl in the entire world inches away from him and her Hollywood smile upon her face, her most amazing feature.

"Aw, you mean it?" she asked. She wanted smack herself; what possessed her to ask him that? Out of everything she could've asked, she asked him that?

"Of course!" Will admitted. "Alyss, I've been looking forward to this all week! I wouldn't miss this for the world." It felt as though her heart had just melted through her entire body. It was literally the sweetest thing anyone had ever told her. And coming from Will's mouth, it even sweeter. She felt herself leaning towards him and he doing the same. As soon as their eyes began to close and the space between their lips became smaller, Luke's voice startled them. They jumped away from each other, brushing themselves, acting as though nothing happened.

"Seven Minutes in Heaven!" Luke yelled. "Gather round the table and bring a pair of guts! That means you too, Will and Alyss!" He gave them the 'I'm watching you' sign and beckoned them to the table. Will gulped; looks like he didn't have to wait too long to see what Horace was planning.


End file.
